


sunshine hotline

by acastle



Series: heart on the line [2]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Radio, Engagement, M/M, Marriage, Minor Eleanor Calder/Louis Tomlinson, Minor Liam Payne/Sophia Smith, Minor Perrie Edwards/Zayn Malik, Past Harry Styles/Kendall Jenner - Freeform, Past Niall Horan/Zayn Malik
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-10
Updated: 2016-03-10
Packaged: 2018-05-25 22:03:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 38,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6211930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acastle/pseuds/acastle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The words “My fiance” are written in Niall’s neat, bold handwriting, a small heart scrawled next to them, and his heart stops. His chest tightens, and he feels himself tear up immediately.</p>
<p>“I’d say you got it right,” Niall says simply, eyes and voice gentle, and it doesn’t do much to stop the tears from falling.</p>
<p>Niall hands him a handkerchief, and he’s the smug one now, asking him, “You okay?”</p>
<p>“Shut up, Ni,” he says, no heat to it as he takes the offered handkerchief with slightly trembling hands and he wipes away the tears on his face.</p>
<p>(Heartbreak Hero and his Magpie get married. Or try to.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	sunshine hotline

**Author's Note:**

> Better if you read the first one, but in any case, short recap. Niall is a radio talk show presenter who specializes in love problems, and Harry was previously an ex-boyfriend of a caller who demanded Niall to help him win back his girl. They ended up falling in love instead, and this is their story, four years later.

"It's got to be Jagger," Niall says after a moment of thought, after quietly pondering once Harry had confirmed his previous query:  _"This another one of your man-crushes?_ "

Harry admits to himself that he isn't the most creative when it comes to games like this. Had just come home after another meeting with Julian and he never thought making an album was so much work, a minefield of what to include and what to reject and he doesn’t ever want to offend anyone but some of the songs they’re making him sing are _awful_ and it’s not like they don’t like the songs he’s written but. It’s just difficult and there are a lot of egos and he should have known. Meetings without Niall aren't really worth going to. And Niall and Grimmy had an amazing show today and helped this old couple have an amazing anniversary and he had cooked an amazing dinner and here they were, drinking beer (Niall) and wine (Harry) out of scotch glasses because they couldn't find the beer mugs and wine glasses as they played a stupid guessing game. Write a random person's name on a Post-it, stick it to the other person's forehead, answer yes or no questions to guess who it is. Easy.

Easy for Niall. Because Harry, Harry is predictable and Niall knows too many people anyway. It's fine, he's not competitive.

"Yeah, you got it,” he says, leaning forward and smiling tenderly at him and they’ve come a long way. He loves him, really does.

He bends over, hovering over the table between them as he places a soft kiss on Niall’s cheek, murmuring, “You’re so good-”

“You made it easy.”

“Still good,” he affirms, and he kisses below his ear.

“Christ, you idiot, alright,” Niall laughs at him, patting at his cheek gently and making him sit back on the floor, legs tucked under the table with difficulty. “Okay, gonna give you a good one.”

He takes another sticky note, uncaps the marker with his teeth and begins to write, and Harry can’t stop staring at him. Wouldn’t ever figure his life to turn out like this, four years after. Wouldn’t imagine that he’d still feel the same way about Niall, stronger, even.

Still finds himself so in love with his Heartbreak Hero, and it’s seems silly, but. Here he is. Reformed Magpie, loved up and living together and living out the lives they’ve always wanted for themselves.

“Here ya go,” Niall mutters with a slight smirk, leaning forward and sticking the note on his forehead, and all Harry can think of is, _“Love you, love you, love you._ ” He can almost see the hearts flying in front of his face. He’s such a sap.

“Hmmmm, alright,” he starts, only after Niall kicks him under the table, realizing that he’s been silent for a bit. “Um, is it a guy?”

“Yep,” Niall replies shortly, his chin resting on his fist.

“He good-looking, then?” he asks next.

“Very,” Niall says, almost instantly.

“Smart?”

“He wishes,” Niall scoffs a bit, but it’s light, not meant to offend.

“Do I know him?”

“Very well. So do I.”

The soft way Niall answers makes him pause. And gives him an idea.

“Do you like him?” he asks, watching him carefully for his reaction.

Niall doesn’t answer for a while, then his face turns tender, and he says in an equally tender voice, “I do. Very much so.”

Harry can see the hearts floating around his face too. Replies, feeling confident but unsure at the same time, doesn’t want to seem to assured, “Is it me?”

Niall gives him the softest smile, and it’s enough.

“I knew it!” he gets up on his knees, grinning. “I knew it, you made it easy, ha! I win!”

He grins even wider, seeing the soft look on Niall’s face hasn’t changed in the slightest, and he sits back on his haunches, feeling too smug because it’s the first one he’s gotten while Niall’s gotten all of his answers right, and he peels the note off his head, saying with a soft chuckle, “I’m too good-”

Then he sees what’s written on the paper. The words “ _My fiance_ ” are written in Niall’s neat, bold handwriting, a small heart scrawled next to them, and his heart stops. His chest tightens, and he feels himself tear up immediately. _Love you, love you, love you-_

“I’d say you got it right,” Niall says simply, eyes and voice gentle, and it doesn’t do much to stop the tears from falling.

Niall hands him a handkerchief, and he’s the smug one now, asking him, “You okay?”

“Shut up, Ni,” he says, no heat to it as he takes the offered handkerchief with slightly trembling hands and he wipes away the tears on his face.

“Well, in any case,” Niall says, and he’s reaching into his pocket and between his index finger and his thumb, he holds out a simple ring, a band of gleaming white gold. “This is yours.”

Harry cries even harder, hides his face behind the fabric that’s disgusting with tears and snot, but Niall smiles at him all the same, looking so fond and in love and. _Love you, love you, love you-_

“So, what do you say?” he asks gently, leaning on the table and looking at Harry. “Marry me?”

Harry peers at him, takes in the warm look on his face, and then looks at the ring between his fingers, and looks back up to meet Niall’s gaze. Takes the ring carefully, and stares at it for a good while. Feels a small laugh fight its way out of his throat and his eyes sting a more tears when he sees etched inside the band in a simple font, _“several violations_ ”, and he loves him, so, so much.

Ignoring the fact that Niall is lighter than him and his limbs always stick out in the weirdest ways, he flings himself over the table, trusting Niall to catch him and he throws himself to him, and he feels the startled laugh in Niall’s throat, his chest as they land on the floor.

“Yeah,” he mumbles, tangling their legs together, pressing his hand on Niall’s chest as he leans down, kissing him, his lips just hovering over his mouth, never moving away, “Alright.”

_Love you, love you, love you._

.

“Hello, Heroes,” Niall greets, speaking into the microphone and his grin is another level, today. “Niall, your Heartbreak Hero here, and if you’ve got a love problem, you know what to do. Call in at 03700 100 100, or Tweet me, @NiallOfficial, hashtag #HeartbreakHero-”

“Actually, Nialler’s got some big news, everyone,” Nick says into his own mic, grinning and looking smug. “Ain’t that right? Hero’s not feeling much heartbreak, these days?”

“Shut it, Grimshaw, yes, we know you’re still buzzing off of one of your talents winning The X Factor, third year in a row-”

“How long have you and Magpie been together now, Niall?” Grimmy asks, pretending to think about it, but Niall knows the twat too well. “Four years, yeah?”

“Anyway, I’m getting some Tweets here, @horchatapls says- _oh christ_ , guys, come on, Heartbreak Hero related questions, please-”

“I’ve got a better one over here! @narryaremydads asks, _‘FOUR YEARS FIVE MONTHS YESTERDAY._ ’ Woah, we need to get this person for statistics, yeah?”

“Still scrolling the tag,” Niall mutters trying to tamp down his blush, but it’s for naught. Nick starts poking at his cheek, smile wide on his face, looking much too happy.

“Well, you know, Harry texted me this morning, Nialler, sent me an interesting picture-”

“You wanker, I’m trying to do a show here-”

“What are you on about, Niall, this _is_ the show,” Nick says, and he’s bringing up the photo on his phone, presents it to the camera in the studio for those watching the livestream with a wide wide grin on his face, says, “Now, isn’t that a magnificent hand?”

“Yeah, Haz has nice hands,” Niall says, trying to trudge on, but his happiness takes over, and he can’t help it. He grins as well, tries to hide it but Nick’s too perceptive, but by some good grace he just chooses to pinch Niall’s cheek rather than anything else, a tame reaction. “Wicked cross tattoo.”

“Yeah, yeah, but look at this!” Nick says, and he’s pointing at the screen and shoving his phone at the camera. “Look! Is that not a ring?!”

“Harry always wears rings-”

“But this is the only ring on this hand!” he retorts, “And wow, does this one look expensive.”

“It was expensive.”

“Niall!” Nick says, glint in his eyes and shock on his face for drama, but Niall knows that he knows. Twat. “Could it be?! Are Heartbreak Hero and his Magpie, are you, _engaged_?”

“Can we not be ridiculous this morning,” Niall says, but he’s smiling anyway, cheeks pink with joy.

“You’re engaged, though,” Nick says, still waiting for confirmation.

Niall pauses, considering, then Bagsy’s gesturing for Nick to take the phone, and NIall knows who’s on the other line already.

“ _Hiiiiiiii._ ”

“Harry!”

“ _Yes, morning Nick. Morning, love._ ”

“Morning, love,” he greets back, because how could he not, and Nick plays the ‘ _Awwwww_ ’ audio clip.

“ _Yeah, um. Niall and I. We are, you know,_ ” he rambles, trying to answer Grimmy, and Niall is so endeared and annoyed at the same time. He’s ridiculous.

“I can’t wait to be married to you,” he cuts Harry off, his voice quiet and he knows it’s on his face too, his fondness, and then there’s too much noise around him. The producers and managers behind the glass are squealing and yelling, and Nick’s no better, playing almost every sound on the audio board, not caring where his fingers land as he’s screaming, smartly turning off his microphone before he really goes off.

Twitter’s going mad on his phone, notifications from followers ringing up with texts coming from friends and family and at the top of it, he sees Liam’s message, a simple, ‘ _oh Niall. this is the best news._ ’

He turns his phone off, watching as Nick goes a little crazy on his behalf, and instead asks Harry, “What did you have for brekkie, love?”

.

“This is strange,” Harry mutters, propping his feet up on Louis’s lap, head on El’s, and they’re watching as a clip of him and Niall on some red carpet from maybe a year ago, the voice on the foreground saying, “ _Niall Horan’s engaged! After finding success as England’s ‘Heartbreak Hero,’ Niall confirmed on air yesterday that he and longtime boyfriend, rising artist Harry Styles, whom he had first met on the air when Styles’ ex-girlfriend broke up with him on Niall’s radio show, are soon to be married-_ ”

“‘Rising artist?’ Oh christ,” Louis mutters, shoving Harry’s feet off, ignoring the pout he gives him. “Hope the world is prepared for your pretentious, Fleetwood Mac-loving ass-”

“Oh, leave it Lou,” Eleanor says, and she smiles at Harry, and she is his favorite, next to Niall. “I’m so happy for you, Harry. You both are so good for each other.”

“I'm so happy," he says, and it's his ' _I know,' 'thank you,' 'he's the best person ever,'_ all in one. He thumbs his ring, the metal smooth and beautiful, and he's so happy. "I can't wait."

"We know," Louis mutters, pushing at Harry's feet when he persists and tries to prop his feet up again. "All you post of are different angles of your bloody ring and couple pics. Could have lived without the after-sex one, didn't know that people even still did that-"

"But," Harry deflates. That's one of his favorites. Niall had looked so soft, his arms curled around his torso protectively, his lips pressing on the back of Harry's neck as he pulled Harry's body to his chest, the covers covering them from the waist down; he had thought it was tame enough. He had felt especially loved that morning.

"Oh, ignore him, love, he's really happy for you. He just won't admit it," she comforts him, playing with his hair because she knows it calms him down.

"You're the best, El," he says, and Louis prods at his stomach, obviously annoyed.

"I'm best man, yeah?" he says, still poking.

"El, would you-"

"I'M BEST MAN, RIGHT?" Louis asks, shouts as he attacks Harry and they both go toppling to the ground.

"Lou, please, you're a lawyer," El says longsufferingly from her perch on the sofa. "And you're both near thirty, stop it-"

.

"Can't believe you're going to be a husband," Liam mutters, voice muffled into Niall's stomach as he starfishes over his right side. Sophia hums, nuzzling her cheek on Niall's chest.

They're in the makeshift dressing room backstage. Wembley Arena show, first night of Liam's new tour, and he was buzzing off of too much energy. Sophia had pulled them both to the convertible sofa-bed and told them to spoon. It's working well, so far.

"Can remember you in uni, mate," Liam continues, snuggling closer. "Hair like sunshine and braces, drunk and moaning about how you never got laid-"

"Jesus, Liam, fuck you very much," Niall says, frowning up at the ceiling and hoping Liam can feel it through his body. "Had high standards. Wouldn't just go round to pull just anyone."

"Alright, Mr. Styles," he says, and Niall snorts.

"Not on your bloody life," Niall replies, rubbing the back of Liam's head.

"About time, though, Niall," Soph says beside him, and he hums back, because yeah, it was about time. Felt right.

“How's it feel like? To be married,” he asks them, his hand over Sophia's, thumbing over the smooth metal of her own wedding band, careful with the diamonds encrusted in it. Been a few years, he'd been best man, of course. It'd been a private thing, but it was still huge because Liam couldn't not give Soph a grand ceremony. It was lovely. He thinks he still might be a little hungover from it. He and Harry shagged in the honeymoon suite meant for them by accident. Great night, on all accounts.

“I don't know,” Sophia says, voice a little muffled. “Doesn't feel any different, really. Just more official, and more paperwork.”

“Wrong couple to ask, you've always been married even when you weren't,” he huffs.

“It kind of feels like a new life, in a way,” Liam says then. “I don't know how to explain it exactly. It's just. It feels likes other beautiful thing beginning.”

They both stay quiet for a moment, absorbing his answer, and she mutters a little later on, “Yeah, this is why he's the songwriter.”

“Why you married me, yeah?”

“Eh,” she says, snuggles into Niall's warmth and staying indifferent to Liam's noises of indignation.

.

Wedding planning is a lot of work. Meetings aplenty with planners and going to different venues for consideration for reception and ceremony proper and whatnot, deciding who to invite and not to invite, groomsmen and best men and sponsors and who the fuck’s going to officiate.  

(Nick had offered, on air, and Harry had very wholeheartedly agreed, delighted. Niall had to put his foot down somewhere.)

It doesn't help that Niall's job takes up most of his mornings and he's recently been hosting a few events here and there and his segment’s gotten popular enough to warrant a book, fuck’s sake. Harry's been getting attention as well, for his music and he's been having the occasional gig and been playing with some amazing people. Even played a bit with Bombay Bicycle Club before they'd disbanded, so. He's been quite busy, as well.

There is also the predicament, that newly engaged status, that makes them just go at it. Can't seem to stop touching each other and fucking all over their place and just. At the rate they're going, they'll be well into their thirties before they'll even be married, but they're not too bothered. They still act like them, much too laid back and relaxed and it's driving their planners, their family, their friends up the wall. They all ended up being the ones to stress out over the whole thing, which is just fine by the two of them. Everyone else had been particularly frustrated.

Even when they'd tried to be productive with the deciding, it had been through some sort of bribery, on Harry's part. He's not complaining, by any means, but the payout.

It goes like this.

“Okay, okay, I really do think we need to get some shit done,” Harry's saying, his head on Niall's lap and staring up at his fiancé. He grins, because _his fiancé._

“Okay, tell me what you want,” Niall asks, stares down at him, relaxing his body on the couch. He'd been a little high strung as of late. It's the early as fuck mornings and there's been talks of reshuffling, in the BBC radio program schedules, so it had been a lot of pressure on him. Harry's noticed his head’s been all over the place as of late, not his usual light, sunshine-y self, so. He thinks fast.

“Let's have Ronnie Wood officiate,” he says, excited beam spreading on his face. “I met him the other day, was really chuffed, and he's so nice. I think it would be such a cool story to tell, if-”

“No,” Niall's saying immediately, shaking his head and an exasperated look on his face. “No fucking way, Haz.”

His face falls, knows it probably looks ridiculous from where he is, but he says anyway, “Why not, Ni? He'd be great, says he officiated for a couple of dogs.”

“Not about to have Ronnie Wood officiate our wedding, love,” he says, steering clear of Harry's attempts to touch his face with his waving arms up in the air.

“But you love him,” he pouts, manages to slide the back of his hand on Niall's chest.

“Not the point,” Niall sighs, putting Harry's hand back down.

“Well, we're going to need to start making choices sometime soon,” he tells him, wriggling about so that he's setting his knees on the couch cushions next to where Niall's thighs are spread. A lump grows in his throat, because there's just something about the way he sits, makes him warm all over. He's ridiculous, but.

“Just did, no to Ronnie,” Niall retorts, closes his eyes and hums to himself. Harry pauses, then gets an idea, and he's much too excited for it.

“Alright, I think I know a way for you to decide,” he says, shuffling closer to him and leaning forward, placing a kiss on Niall's cheek. Allows his lips to linger there as Niall hums even more, leaning to the touch.

“And what might that be?” he humors him, rubbing his thigh briefly. It just sets Harry off even more.

“Okay. For every decision you make right now,” he mumbles into his skin, tracing his nose over the curve of his cheek, “how about, I take off a piece of my clothing.”

It's dead silent then, but Harry can swear that he can feel a heart thumping. Isn't quite sure if it's his or Niall's, but he nuzzles his face as he waits for a reply. Places his hand on Niall's thigh, close to his crotch, and calms him as his leg twitches. Good things.

“Well,” he's mock sighing, opening his eyes and the blue is almost nonexistent, all Harry can see is the darkness of his pupil. “You've certainly gotten my attention.”

It's a yes and so much more, and Harry couldn't be more pleased. He grins slyly, slinking off of Niall and standing in front of him, says, “Okay. First question, then. Where do you want to get married?”

“Hmm, I'd want to say anywhere, but I'd be lying if I'd said I didn't dream of getting married in Ireland,” Niall answers, and he's feigning indifference to what's about to happen, but he's an awful actor. He shrugs a bit as a last resort to hide his anticipation, says, “You don't mind, do you love?”

“Not a problem,” Harry replies, giving him a cheeky smile as he unbuttons his sheer black shirt. Shrugs it off as he asks again, “What about our honeymoon, any thoughts on where you'd want to go?”

“I figured we've been to so many places together, maybe we should stay at your hometown, yeah?”

“You'd want to have a honeymoon in Holmes Chapel?” Harry says, and he didn't expect the warmth in his heart to appear right at that moment. Been so set on getting some sexy time that he didn't take into account how fucking sweet Niall could be at the most inconvenient times.

“If you'd want,” he's saying, suddenly unsure, but Harry leans forward and kisses him, hovering over and gripping the backrest by Niall's head. He doesn't take long to react, bites at his lips and sucking his tongue into his mouth, helps Harry with the button in his jeans. Pops it open and he palms him over the thick fabric, and he jolts into the touch.

“I want, I really do,” Harry stands again, panting a bit and removing his pants properly, scrambles to remove it. “Your best man?”

“Liam or Nick,” he answers against Harry's mouth, and Harry had never frozen so quickly against Niall's touch so quickly.

“You can't have two,” he says, straightening up and looking reproachfully at Niall. “I'm only gonna have Louis, that's no fair.”

“I don't know who to pick yet,” Niall whines, sad eyes full on. “Why don't you ask Matty-”

“The fuck, no, I love him, but he's a twat,” Harry snorts. “Pick one.”

Niall makes a strangled noise, comes from the throats and he butts his head on Harry's stomach. “I don't know. Not even sure if Liam's going to be in the fucking country because of his tour, and I know Grimmy would have some sort of strop.”

“Well you can't just have two best men, you're going to have to pick,” Harry tells him, just making Niall yell frustratedly a bit more.

“I'll get my dad to maybe think about it,” he says eventually, looking up at Harry and squeezing his sides. Leans in to bite at the left love handle, making Harry jump and tremble slightly under his mouth.

“Can - can you do that?” he breathes, hands coming up to grasp at Niall's shoulders as a love bite is marked into his hips. Tries not to shiver too much as Niall sucks at the soft flesh. “Your dad, being a best man?”

“Why not? Saw ‘About Time?’” Niall mutters, tilts his head up and pulling Harry's face to his so he can kiss him. “Bill Nighy gave a best man speech, twice.”

“Oh, that's - that's nice,” he gasps when his ass is groped rather hard. He pushes back at the touch, wanting more.

“Okay, pants off, I gave you an answer,” Niall murmurs, sucking at his skin and slipping his hands underneath the waistband of his tight boxer briefs, palming his cheeks properly. Harry breathes hard, rolling his hips back and trying to get Niall to do more.

“Feel weird stripping my pants off for Bobby Horan,” he mutters, making Niall shut him up with a hard kiss. Latches on to his lips and pulls him in, making Harry climb on top of him clumsily and settle into his lap as he tries to remove his underwear without moving too far away from him.

Naturally, because Harry on a good day has the coordination and grace of a baby giraffe, he ends up twisting in a weird way, and he has a suspended moment of _oh shit,_ before he topples to the ground and landing on the plush carpet. Of course, he'd brought Niall down with him, hoping he'd get some balance by holding on to him, but while Niall's strong, he's also still lighter than him, so that had failed quite miserably.

_“Christ,_ Harry,” Niall hisses at him, landed on top of him, luckily, and he frowns down at him. “Got to be more careful.”

“You're marrying Baby Groot,” he says, beams up at him before kissing him, licking into his mouth.

“Doubt Groot would be this clumsy,” he mutters, but he helps Harry get the pants off properly from where it had tangled in his ankles, and his hands are mapping every inch of his body. Harry arches into the touch, the slightly rough slide of Niall's fingertips on his skin never gets old.

“Turn over,” Niall's voice just this side of gruff, the arousal clear, and Harry complies. Feels himself get hitched up, his fiancé _(fiance)_ gripping his hips and pulling him up to his hands and knees. He looks back curiously, but the first touch of something slick and amazing at his rim makes him gasp, throw his head back at the unexpected sensation. He pushes back on what he quickly realizes is Niall's tongue on his arse, just tracing over his hole with light little licks.

“Ni,” it's guttural, comes from deep within his chest and much too early, he feels the heat quickly build up in the pit of his stomach. Niall licks around his arse for a bit more, before biting at the skin and making Harry jolt. Feels like he's about to jump out of his skin, his dick already staining and standing erect, hard, and it's too much and not enough all at the same time. “Niall, please-”

The words are barely out of his mouth when Niall pushes his tongue into his entrance, and he whines, loud and long and tries to help him along, pushes his ass back to his face. Niall's hands are on his arse cheeks, slapping at the skin a bit and then pulling them apart so he can get in deeper. It's filthy and incredible and Harry wants more.

Niall fucks his tongue into Harry's hole, slick and warm and he squirms and whimpers when it brushes up against his prostate, collapses to his elbows and moaning up a storm as Niall just eats him out.

“We're disgusting,” Niall mutters when he briefly pulls his tongue out of him, his breath hot across Harry's already overheated skin.

“We're amazing,” he replies, more like gasps, twists around and gets his hand on Niall's hair, pulling his mouth back to his arse. “Best idea ever.”

Niall doesn't even snort, or give him any sort of exasperated noise that he usually would respond with. He just lets himself be guided back to Harry's arse and slides his tongue back in seamlessly.

Harry moans, falling back on his elbows and letting himself ride Niall's tongue from underneath when Niall moves him, his hand on his hip and making him move back on his tongue. Really, really filthy, feels himself get slick from Niall's mouth and he cannot wait.

“Ahh, fuck, get in me,” he says after Niall aims his tongue particularly well, makes him jump and his erection twitch beneath him. As fantastic as this is, he wants to come with his fucking fiancé's cock inside him.

“Fuck, okay,” Niall's muttering, pulling away briefly to get himself out of his clothes. Harry makes to get on his back so he can watch, can't quite get enough of seeing him strip ever, but Niall firmly, though with gentle hands, grips his hips and makes him stay on his knees, pinching his arse a little once he gets him in the position he wants him in. “Stay like this.”

He can't speak, is so far gone that he just nods, doesn't move and he whimpers at the first touch of a finger at his hole, just probing slightly, there at the rim but not dipping in. It's slick,  and Harry hadn't even seen or heard Niall get the lube.

“Cruelty,” he mutters when Niall doesn't push in after a solid minute, just circling his arsehole.

He gets a snigger for his troubles, a light spank against the curve of his bum that makes him jolt and whine, loud and obscene in the stillness of the room. A mere millisecond later, Niall pushes his finger in easily, Harry opening up for him with barely any trouble.

“That's it,” Niall's murmuring, leaning down to whisper in his ear as he opens him up further for his cock. “Never get tired of this.”

Harry can't quite respond verbally, is too overwhelmed with the assault of touch and arousal and everything, whines instead and pushes back as Niall fucks in with two fingers, scissoring them apart inside him. Whines even louder when he moves them slightly, brushing the sensitive spot.

Niall continues with his continuous, almost never ending stream of dirty talk and swears, obscene whispers in his ear as he takes in one more finger, his hand moving alarmingly fast and rough as he fucks him open.

“Fuck me, go on, I need you,” he chokes on his words, throwing his head back and grabbing at Niall's neck, tilts their heads and kisses him hard. Bites at his bottom lip and sucking on his tongue and he's more than desperate. Wants him so much.

“Yeah, alright,” Niall pulls his fingers out, and Harry can hear the slick sounds of him getting his prick ready. Is thankful that they've gotten tested, because he doesn't think he'd be patient enough for him to get a condom and put it on. Feels so much better without, can't get enough of it.

As he guides his cock into Harry's arse, slowly pushing in, Harry cannot help but mutter, _“finally.”_ Niall chuckles behind him, grips his love handles and squeezes hard as he enters, releasing a shuddering sigh when he bottoms out, and Harry moans for a bloody long time. Can't quite stop his arse from clenching around Niall's cock, and he feels full to the brim, amazing. But, it's not quite what he wants.

He tells Niall as much, and he replies with a gruff chuckle, pulling out slow and shoving back in hard, making his body jump forward. “Then tell me what you want, love.”

_“Fuck,”_ he cries, fingers grabbing at the carpet below him as Niall grinds in further. He pulls, hard enough to pull out several threads, but he'll worry about that later. “Fuck, I want it hard. As hard as you'll give me, fuck.”

“Okay,” is Niall's short reply, and he doesn't play around after that. Pulls out and hammers back in quick and frenzied, pace unbelievable and he knows just what Harry wants, always.

Harry sobs at how good it is, as Niall fucks him hard and he tries to spread his legs further, get him in deeper, but can't do much more as his body jolts from the force of the pounding he's getting. He's so sure, that they'll be getting rug burn on their knees, but it's a distant worry, can't even bother to think about it as his arse is filled, over and over and perfectly.

He feels hands spread his cheeks apart, and he groans when he realizes Niall's done it so he can watch himself fuck into Harry, watch his cock disappear into him, and it really is quite filthy. He's never felt sexier, though, makes him red all over with pleasure and he tries to push back on his thrusts, but when Niall just angles himself _so,_ he seems to lose any sort of control over his body.

“God, _fuck, right there,_ fuck me, Niall,” he swears, falls to his elbows and he hides his face in his arms, shuts his eyes and just focuses on the way Niall drills his cock into his arse, over and over. He bites at his hand to try to muffle his noises, a pointless move, but. His teeth catch on his engagement ring, and somehow, for some reason, it just makes everything so much hotter. Makes his cock twitch and spill a bit of pre-cum, and he can't do much more but clench around the length as it drives into him, and he cannot wait for a lifetime of this, amongst other things.

“So good, love,” Niall's telling him, fucking in and in and just being generally perfect. Pulls Harry back to him by the hips, and Harry can tell he's not going to last much longer, with the uneven pace and the way he's ramming in harder, more desperate. “Taking me so well.”

“Fucking right,” he gasps, his arse up in the air and he's so beyond help at the moment. Just wants to come and make Niall come in him but wants to draw it out for forever, all at the same time.

“Shit, Harry,” he's whimpering, and he's pulling him back up to all fours, bending down again to mold himself to his back and roll his hips in from there. Angle’s not quite the same, but Harry doesn't care, not when Niall gets his cock in his hand and tugging him off to no particular beat.

_“Niall,”_ he sobs, barely taking anything before he's fucking into Niall's grip and coming, shooting white ribbons all over himself, all over the carpet.

“God, not another one,” Niall's muttering, lamenting the carpet’s disgusting state. He's still throbbing inside Harry, and as good as it feels, it won't be for much longer.

Harry sets to work, rolling his hips and shoving himself back when Niall doesn't move for several more moments. He whimpers and moans and makes just about every sexual sound as he rides him from below, and it doesn't take Niall long to follow suite, chasing his own orgasm and fucking into him. Once, twice, then he drives in hard, gasping when he comes in his arse, filling him with his load.

“Disgusting, we're disgusting,” Niall's muttering as he pulls out slowly. Keeps Harry on his knees and he's licking him out again, and it really should be too much, but Harry can't help but love it. He mewls as he's cleaned out by Niall's tongue, then he's turned over on his back, and Niall's crawling over him. Kissing him hard and he moans into his mouth as he licks into Harry's mouth.

Really, he should be grossed out, and it's really weird, that he's kind of tasting himself and Niall at the same time, but all he says is, “Fucking debauched, we are. We'll be like this forever.”

“Hmm,” Niall's humming against his lips, laying his body over Harry's and they fit so well together. Just seem to fill each other's spaces and complement each other so seamlessly.

“You didn't like that rug much, right?” he's asking as they settle into each other. Niall rests his head on his chest, cheek warm against his skin as he traces over his tattoos, and Harry plays with his hair. It's nearly all brown now, blonde only skimming the tips of his locks, and it should be long enough soon that they can cut it away.

“Eh, Grimmy’s taste is great most of the time, extremely questionable the rest,” he replies. He tangles their legs together, says, “He'll get us another one when he finds out I've ruined this one too. Endless supply of twattish carpets, he's got them all.”

“What do you tell him when he asks what happened to them?”

“That we fucked on them and got disgusting fluids all over them,” he answers simply, nonchalantly.

Harry squawks, would usually be the one between the two of them to speak so frankly about their sex life, but if Nick Grimshaw knows the nature of how and where and when they shag, and potentially tease him about it for the rest of his life, then. He's merciless, different in the way Louis is merciless, and it's a bit much to handle. “What you do that for?”

“It's not like he was going to believe anything else,” Niall tells him, and he squeaks, turning red and Niall just coos at him as he tries to hide his blush, as if he could in his naked state. “I tried, that first time on the Flying Carpet, actually quite liked that one. Remember it?”

“Jasmine to your Aladdin,” he sighs dreamily, but he's still fucking mortified. “A whole new world.”

“Well. Didn't work, he worked out that I was bluffing after like five minutes. He's always so fucking pleased when I ruin them because of shagging, anyway, doesn't ever get mad at me for it. Maybe that's why he always gives me the awful shit, so they're sure to gfucked on.”

“Don't need Nick Grimshaw to assist in any way so I can have sex with my fiancé,” he huffs petulantly, and Niall laughs at him, moving about so he's hovering over Harry again and kissing him sweetly, snogging all his worries away.

.

He's in the studio, trying to finish a few tracks he'd co-written with Liam, and they're good, but not quite there yet.

“Could always do with the horns, mate,” he says, just as they've finished listening to the rough edit of ‘Olivia.’ “Like, in the chorus. Would be great if it just bellows in, _‘I live for you, I long for you,’_ ” he sings, trying to imagine the instrumentation in his head as he goes along.

“I don't think it needs it,” Julian tells him, head tilted up and his eyes closed as he tries to hear it in his head. “Sounds enough like a Beatles song, not a bad thing, but it's almost a straight lift from a song from Sgt. Pepper’s. Unless that's what you were going for.”

“Well, no, but I really think it needs the horns,” Harry frowns, and Julian's such a twat. Loves him, but the horns.

“Well, we can try making a version with the horns and see which one you like more,” John says, and Harry grins at him.

“See, this is why he's the favorite,” he says, pulling him in for a hug, and Julian just rolls his eyes, smiles all the same.

“Who is Olivia, anyway?” he's asking, making some notes in his notebook before fiddling around the arrangement with his laptop.

“Don't know, ask Liam,” he answers, grinning. “He did that part of the chorus, I just filled everything else in.”

“So, no songs about your boy?” he's asking then, and John looks up at that as well.

“Got plenty about him, they're just personal,” he says, shrugging a bit, but he's blushing anyway. They rib him for a good minute, before they turn back to their work, but they ask him along the way.

“So you don't plan on releasing those?”

“No, a lot of the songs on the record are about him,” he admits, “Maybe that's why it's taken so bloody long. Just want it to be perfect, for him. Some of the really personal ones though, I keep for myself. For now.”

“Has he heard them?”

“Not really,” he answers, grabbing his journal and opening it, relishing the leather beneath his fingers. “I mean, he's heard stuff, while I'd write them, but never in full. He'll help me with a riff or two when I ask, because he knows how to play the guitar, but otherwise.”

“So it's a surprise for him.”

“Kind of, yeah. Just want it to be good the first time he listens to them, you know?”

“How will he know it's about him, then?”

“Oh, he'll know,” he replies, smiling softly at the thought of Niall hearing everything for the first time, and he's already so insanely proud of this album. Worked his arse off for it and he hopes that people will like it. Hopes Niall will like it.

They work on a few more songs, Julian still won't give him the horns and he's fighting for a trumpet as well, when his phone chimes with a notification. He checks it, jumps when he reads the message from Niall saying _‘Planners are here, where are you???’_

“Shit, shit, shit,” he mutters, scrambling to get his stuff together, “Sorry, lads, need to go-”

“What about now?” John asks calmly, peering from his laptop screen.

“Forgot I had a meeting with the the wedding planners, floral arrangements - Ah, no, no, shit. It's catering, catering today, yeah. That's right.”

“Make sure there's steak,” Julian says, smiling a bit. “Won't make it through a wedding without meat.”

“Niall won't fail you there,” he says, stuffing his bag and he's late. “Sorry guys, sorry again,” because this isn't the first time this has happened, and it's bound to not be the last either.

“Go get your boy, Harry,” Julian waves him off, “See you tomorrow.”

“Okay,” he says, though he's completely unsure if he'll even be able to go tomorrow, he knows he's got something wedding related but he's just not sure what it is. It's all getting a bit mixed up in his head, and he needs to get himself screwed on right.

.

“Was thinking I’d introduce a new segment today,” Grimmy’s saying into his mic, grinning manically as he stares at Niall across the table from him. “It will fly, fly like a bird.” And he plays an excerpt of the Nelly Furtado song, of course.

“This is your Heartbreak Hero, coming in live from the BBC Radio 1 Broadcasting House,” Niall's trying to salvage the hour, ignoring Nick. There'd been an influx of completely unrelated Tweets and messages and calls today, not really related to Hero but more to Niall and Harry, and while it's amazing that they've been getting so much support, he still has a job to do. Can't do shit if all people want to call in for is to ask where they're planning to have sex the first time as a married couple. Not that it's any of their business, and also completely inappropriate for a morning radio show.

“Oh come off it, Nialler,” Nick’s cutting in, waving him off. Bagsy’s trying resolutely to stop him, but the other producers had given up a lot time ago. “Heroes, in this time of great joy and celebration, I think it be appropriate that we send our Heartbreak Hero and his lovely Magpie wedding wishes and advice aplenty.”

“Why? We're not getting married for months,” Niall's muttering, rolling his eyes when Nick plays a snippet from Pink’s ‘So What,’ though the context isn't completely right for the situation, but it's whatever.

“Why not? Your Heroes have plenty to be happy about for you, and they should get the opportunity to share that happiness with you, Nialler,” he says passionately, stabbing at the _‘applause’_ button twice. “They should get to communicate their joy for you, on air!”

“That's what they're already doing now,” he says, “Can't get any callers or messages about love problems. All about me and Haz.”

“So might as well make a segment, yeah?!” Grimmy says, jabbing the _‘applause’_ again. “Call in to the station! Send in your messages for soon-to-be ‘Mr. Styles-Horan,’ or ‘Horan-Styles’-”

“Not on your life, you head case,” Niall scowls at him, but he just continues, grin wide on his face.

“Should think of a name for it, yeah? make it a thing, like proper,” he says, tapping at his head. “Hmm. ‘Heartstring Manor.’”

“Could you be more of a twat,” he says, and Bagsy sighs from behind the glass. The swearing had never gotten better, even after four years. “No way, sounds like somewhere a reincarnation of Elvis would live.”

“Oh, sick, maybe I'll name my flat that,” Nick beams, says immediately, “Oh, oh. ‘Hummingbird-’”

“I'm going to stop you right there,” Niall says, prompting Grimmy to bring out the _‘boooo’_ sound clip.

“You are no fun, like, honestly,” he's pouted at, but he's stopped getting affected by that a long time ago.

“I don't need a segment, I don't need a name for a segment, I'm good,” Niall tells everyone, stares around the room to try to get everyone on his side. It has been a slow morning.

“Oh, what about,” Nick's saying excitedly then, playing a clip of Neil Patrick Harris saying, ' _Wait for it,'_ then saying in his smoothest voice, “‘Heartline Bling.’”

It's dead quiet in the room, not for a good reason. Niall glares at him, hopes his eyes are frustrated looking enough through his glasses, and Nick’s trying to explain, “You know, like a play on ‘Hotline Bling’? It's clever.”

“It's ridiculous,” he deadpans, but Nick isn't perturbed. Seems even more determined, it turns out.

“Oh! I see that your fans have gotten themselves a trend ongoing on Twitter,” Nick says, scrolling through his feed. “What do you think of ‘ _#MerryMarryNarry’_? Quite a clever wordplay there.”

“I love you all, you're all great, but. No,” he says, and if he were on camera right now, he'd stare right at the lens as if he were on The Office.

“I quite like it, ‘Merry Marry Narry!’ It's cute,” he rambles on about potential official names for his spontaneous, more of impulsive, really, new segment. All the other names are already trending as well, and Niall is about to lose his mind.

He gets a text then, his phone dinging with the notification, and he opens it, reads a text from Louis.

_‘Call it Sunshine Hotline.’_

Alright, it's Eleanor texting from Louis’s phone. He texts back, ‘thanks El, not bad. Kinda like it really.’

_‘Fuck you this is Louis you twat.’_

He sniggers, speaks into his microphone, “Harry's mate Louis texted in, _‘Sunshine Hotline’_. It's actually not that bad.”

“You're joking, it's horrid,” Nick frowns at him petulantly.

“At least it rhymes,” he shrugs, “I'm down with it. ‘Sunshine Hotline’ it is.”

“It's lame,” Grimmy mutters, and Niall just snorts at him, flips him off as he sips from his tea.

“If you're going to get a new segment out of my personal life, I'm at least going to have the privilege of choosing the name, idiot. _‘#SunshineHotline’_ the way to go Heroes. Deal with it.”

“You're only agreeing to that name because Louis having a strop is worse than me having a strop,” Nick tells him, and Niall just laughs again, flips him off with both fingers, this time.

.

“Harry, are you alright?”

“Huh?” Harry looks over to where Niall's sat next to him. He's wearing those new glasses, black frames that kind of make Harry just want to lick his face a bit, and his blue blue eyes are watching him carefully. He'd been a bit out of it, with all the planning and the record and the gigs and everything in between. Had to fly out after a meeting in LA, just came in early that morning. It's a lot, but he's trying to do right by Niall.

“Yeah, sorry love. Head just went to another place for a bit, didn't get much rest on the plane over.”

“Oh, do you want to go home? Rest up a bit?” he asks, brushes his hair out of his face, and Harry leans into his touch and hums a bit. He's always been such a comfort, a balm.

“No, I'm good, sorry,” he says to everyone in the room in general, smiling sheepishly at the wedding planners and the lovely lady who's making their cake. Can't quite remember her name right now, but he's just so tired. “Wouldn't want to miss the cake tasting, yeah?”

Niall smiles softly at him, kisses his brow and rubs his side comfortingly. “We’ll take it easy today, okay?”

“Thanks, love,” he says, smiles a bit and the lovely baker lady is explaining the different cake flavors that she has set out for them. There's the classic vanilla and chocolate and red velvet and carrot and she’d even brought out some vegan and gluten-free options for them. It's all delicious, everything starts to blur into each other the more Harry tries, and he's fine with Niall choosing in the end, and he can choose the design, too. He's not all that bothered; he'd figured, before, that he would be, because he _was_ a baker, but right now, the planning is getting to be a bit much.

“Well, the cake with the meringue wafers and the mousse was really good,” Niall's saying after they've tried everything, and he glances at Harry, as if asking if he'd liked it as well.

Harry thinks, tries to remember, and he recalls that it was the one with mango and the whipped cream. It was good, great. If Niall wants it.

He nods, smiling a bit to how his assent, and Niall gives him one in return before turning back to the cake lady. They begin negotiating and specifying what exactly they'd need, what can be changed, what price point it would be at if this was added or if she could get the mangoes from the Philippines, because Niall had tried the fruit there and it was otherworldly, and Harry half listens. He knows he'll be okay with whatever Niall chooses in the end, and he's thought this several times within the twenty-something minutes they'd been here, but he really is _exhausted._

When they get out of the bakery, they'd agreed on the meringue cake with mangoes and delicate chocolate mousse with whipped cream icing infused with champagne, and Harry's brain hurts just thinking about it. So many details and he knows it's not a big deal really, in the end. He's not trying to make a big deal out of anything, really. Just wants to be married to his boy.

“Haz?” Niall says quietly, catches his attention as they're walking down the street to their car, parked over on the other side of the building. “Harry, are you okay? You've been kind of out of it, for a while.”

“Sorry, it's just. Overwhelming, I dunno,” he says, sighs a little. “I'm not complaining or anything, I'm excited to marry you. It's just that this is getting a bit much.”

Niall stays quiet for a minute as they walk on, their arms looped and London is loud and a bit drizzly around them today.

“Harry, if you don't want want to do this now,” he's beginning to say, tone careful and maybe the tiniest bit sad, “if it's getting too much to handle or anything, just tell me. I won't mind-”

“Niall,” he says, Niall has always been so considerate and patient. Makes his chest go tight at the thought of him willing to wait for him, as well as the thought of him _having_ to wait. He can't do that to him. Loves him too bloody much. “No, it's okay. I'm sorry. I was just cranky. Cakes were amazing, I'm sure you chose the right one. I'm sorry for being so shitty today.”

“It's fine,” Niall tells him, though he doesn't look so convinced that Harry's truly okay with all of it. He's right, but Harry's not about to tell him that. Doesn't want for him to worry. “Just. You'll talk to me, right? If you have any problems or if it gets overwhelming? You promise?”

“Of course,” he replies, tries to assure him by holding his face in his hands, leaning forward to kiss him gently. “I promise.”

Niall looks at him, his eyes still concerned, but he nods, lets Harry guide him back to the car and he's just looking so forward to the nap he's going to have on the drive home.

.

Working on the record while doing all of this is making Harry lose his mind a little. It's not going as well as he'd planned or hoped, either. He's missed a few sessions, and if he does make it, he's either late or he has to leave early, which is never a good sign and he doesn't know why. He's happy, he is. He's getting an album out and he's about to become this wonderful amazing man’s husband. He doesn't know why it's all fucking up with him as much as it is.

It's unprofessional, he knows, the way he'd been acting. It's not like he means it, but. He cannot help but be disappointed with himself. Knows it's getting on his producers’, manager’s, everyone's nerves, that he's delaying it this much. He knows they're trying to be patient, but there's only so much they can do.

He comes in late, maybe a little less than an hour, for a session with Julian and John, finds out that one of the other producers, Ryan, is coming in, and it makes him nervous. Knows Ryan is one of the pioneering heads of the label, so he's got a lot of work cut out for him. When he walks into the studio, he can hear the tinny sound of a voice coming from a speaker of a sort, like on a call or something of the like.

_“-So I was thinking that that vocal on the bridge could be stronger, because the rest of the song he's so mellow, you know,”_ and great. Even Liam's made it to this meeting before he has and he's in fucking Tokyo at the moment. Feels exponentially more awful now. _“Harry's voice can handle it, he's strong vocally.”_

“Speaking of,” Julian says, smirking at Harry as he settles into one of the spinning chairs with his journal and laptop in tow. “Harry's here, Liam.”

_“Oh, hey Harry,”_ Liam's greeting him on the computer screen, waving and he looks sleepy, but here he is, on a whole other time zone and probably using his day off tour helping him out with this bloody album. _“How are you? We were just talking about ‘Walking in the Wind,’ great song, mate.”_

“Thanks, Payno,” he says, smiling a bit. Tries not to let the fact that Julian and John are staring at each other apprehensively when Ryan is looking just the slightest bit impatient, maybe fed up, in his corner of the room, get to him. “Means a lot, that you've been so helpful. And thanks, for staying up to help us with this. It's just been so hectic, and-”

_“Ah, don't mention it Harry, I know how it is all too well,”_ he waves him off, grinning. _“Came from another wedding thing?”_

“Reception venues,” he answers, and he knows he doesn't sound as enthusiastic as he should be, but it's alright. He's excited to be married, he is. Just was much more work than he'd expected.

“This wedding, man,” Ryan laughs a bit, but it comes out slightly forced and aggravated. He glances towards him, and gives him this confused expression, tries to hide the fact that he's terrified. “You'd think you'd have a career in  this wedding, but that's not the way it works-”

_“Ryan,”_ Liam says immediately, can tell that the airs somehow shifted though he's not actually there physically. _”You're not being fair, mate. Harry's doing the best he can, and it's his bloody day. He should get to be excited for it.”_

“I'm just saying, Liam, we could have gotten this album done so much sooner had he given more time for it, the way he's given all the planning so much of his time and effort.”

“Come on, Ryan,” John’s saying then, and he's usually so quiet and he's all about the work but he's been so nice to Harry. “He's engaged, getting married pretty soon. He's working hard. You’d know that feeling, should it happen to you too.”

“Highly unlikely,” Julian's muttering, but John kicks him discretely under the chair.

“I know, I'm sorry,” Harry says, “I'm doing my best. I'll do better.”

“You better, mate,” Ryan tells him, though he's certainly not Harry's mate. “I'm just telling you now. Loads of people would kill to have your opportunity. You're talented, yeah, but beyond that, you’re lucky because your boyfriend is so well-connected.”

“I know,” Harry says, and he really does. That's why he's been working so bloody hard, because he knows he has it good. He has to prove to everyone that he's not just here because Niall is so skilled at networking. “I know, I'm sorry.”

“You're good, Styles,” he says, “but you cannot keep doing this. I know you're really loved up and all but you can't be all about the fiancé all the fucking time.”

_“Ryan, enough,”_ Liam says, and he hardly sounds like that. He's strict, meticulous and everything, but he's never sharp.

“Just a word of advice, Harry,” Ryan says, standing up and addressing the room in general, “You're going to have to want this career to work. Can't go cutting meetings short or showing up late or blowing it off to taste cakes or look at flower arrangements all the time.”

“Go suck yourself off, Ryan, you weren't even supposed to be here,” Julian tells him as he leaves the studio. Ryan doesn't look back, just flips him off and closes the door behind him. “Jesus, who made that guy king and let him rule, the fuck. He's not even on the board-”

_“You've got to be careful with your mouth around him, Julian,”_ Liam says tiredly, sounds like he's muffling his yawn.

“Whatever, I'm technically his boss, whether he likes it or not,” Julian says with a shrug. “He's a brilliant producer, but sometimes you can tell he likes jacking himself off on his supposed brilliance way too much.”

_“Christ,_ you're so uncouth,” John says, sighing.

“Look here, he's got no business coming in here when he's made no real show of interest before!” Julian yells at no one in particular, just figures probably that it would drive his point in better. “And Harry's working hard, we all know that. You keep doing you, Haz, alright?”

Harry just sits there awkwardly the whole time, silently stewing over Ryan's words and he smiles weakly and nods when Julian addresses him, but the words get to him anyway.

_“Come on, Harry, you're not doing anything wrong,”_ Liam says when he stays silent. _“Ryan's just being a twat. We’ll do this at your pace and the way you want to do it, it's your record.”_

“Thanks, Payno,” he says, and he's honestly trying to do everything he can to not let everyone down, on all fronts.

But. Seed’s planted, all the same.

.

“Alright, got another message for our Sunshine Hero,” Nick’s saying into his mic, “Caller, you're on the air with Niall, go in right ahead.”

_“Hey, Niall, I just wanted to say how pleased we are for you. You and Harry make such a good couple, we've been rooting for the two of you for four years now and we're so excited for you.”_

“Thanks, love,” Niall says, while Grimmy jabs the _‘applause’_ button.

_“Yes, I just wanted to ask. I can't seem to get my own boy to get to propose to me. Been together such a long time, but he won't lock me down.”_

“How long you been together, love?”

_“Almost twice as long as you and Harry have been together.”_

“Oh, absolutely not,” Nick says, appalled for her sake. “What is he doing?”

“Did you think to ask him why you two weren't married, love?” Niall asks her.

_“I mean, it's not like we've never talked about the future, we have. I guess we've just been together so long that it's not become a priority. I've become an old shoe, comfortable and reliable.”_

“His words?!”

_“Sadly.”_

“Well, if that had been me, I would've dumped him, but I'm not you and I don't know your relationship, so I'm not telling you to do that,” he says carefully. “But you know him, and you know how you feel about him. It's your relationship, you have the reins. You do what feels right in your gut. What's it telling you?”

_“That we should have gotten married at least three years ago.”_

“And you still love him? Want to be with him?”

_“I do.”_

“Well, there you go,” he says, “I say ask him yourself. You shouldn't have to wait for him to get his ducks in a row. Propose to him, see how he reacts. If he says yes, and not a reluctant ‘yes,’ mind, like a real, drops down on his knees and cries ‘yes,’ then you know it's right. If it's anything other than that, cut him loose.”

_“Kind of scared of that turnout.”_

“Because you've been together so long?”

_“Well.”_

“You know, sometimes I'd like to think that the kind of history you have matters when you're with someone. You'll want that story together, been with each other so bloody long and you're lucky, found each other so early on in life. That can be amazing, if it's really meant for you. If it's not, it's not.”

_“It's time wasted.”_

“Oh, I wouldn't want to call it that, love. It's just a lesson you had to learn the hard way. That can be bull, for a lot of people, but there's no way you can get that time back, so I don't think you should waste even more time resenting it. Just stew on it for just the amount you need to think about it, then move on, and maybe. Your story had been waiting somewhere else for you, all along.”

_“I'm a little terrified, at what might happen.”_

“I don't blame you. But at one point another, you're going to have to move forward with your life. At least this way, you'll know if he'll be part of it or not.”

.

“Sooo, he's your story, huh?” Nick is asking him as they wrap up the show, head out of the building to have a late breakfast. Brunch. Whatever.

“I hope so. I don't know, he's been out of it lately with the planning,” he says, “and I asked if he wanted to maybe postpone, because he's got an album and he had to think about that too. I just don't want him overworked and maybe resenting all of this because he's always tired.”

“Postpone? Niall-”

“I know, I know,” he sighs. “But I'm really quite okay with waiting. It's a lot to take in. Engagement, planning, wedding, record, songwriting and producing and arranging. It's a shitload to think about.”

“I don't know,” Grimmy says. “Just. Don't be moving the date just because of his needs alone. Think about what it means for you, as well. Get what I'm saying, Nialler?”

“Yeah, thank you, Nick,” he says, pats his arm. When they mention the wedding again, later on as they eat, they talk about details and venues and food. They don't mention Harry and the feeling Niall's having about him losing his grip on everything.

.

Niall's gone for the weekend, gone to the other side of the country for Radio 1’s Big Weekend, hosting duties and such with Scott Mills, and Harry couldn't come along, as much as he'd wanted to. Just had so much work to do here, and it's a bit of a relief, to finally be well past the halfway mark on the record. Many songs are finished, others are still being developed and produced, and some still are just being given finishing touches. Needs to figure out the order he wants them in and what he wants to release next and all of that. Minor stuff. He'll be fine.

He'd just released ‘Hey Angel’ the other week. Niall and Grimmy had been on to premiere it, and the moment had been surreal.

“First single, how you feeling, mate?” Nick had asked him, his hair tall and he's such a pro, at being up so bleeding early every single day. “Heard a bit of it, just to tease, it sounds amazing.”

“Oh, thank you,” he replied, speaking into his microphone. Niall had sat across him, and his smile so warm and he had looked so proud. It heartened him a great deal, and he'd gone on to add, “I'm very proud of the way it's shaping up to be. I'm taking my time with it and it's been such a journey. I'm very happy, really pleased. I hope people will like it as well.”

“I'm sure they will,” Niall replied, beaming at him.

“If you lot could see the hearts just floating about in the room at the moment, with these two on,” Nick had interrupted, making them both laugh. “It's actually quite disgusting, how cute this is. But I'm here to work, so tell us a bit about the song, Harry. Is it about Niall? Don't make this boring.”

“Oh, well,” he began, chuckling nervously and blushing. “I wouldn't say-”

“Oh, shame, for shame,” Grimmy, being the over dramatic twat that he is, had wagged his fingers at him and had shaken his head. “Don't tell me it's about you being high, or drunk, or being off your face in general.”

“Nick, shut it,” Niall snorted at him, and flipped him off for good measure.  “What's it about, then, Haz?”

“It's, um, personal,” he had answered, blushing all the more. “In the end it doesn't really make sense, actually, but. I did get the initial inspiration from. From that time you - well.”

“SO, it is about Niall, you idiot,” Nick had claimed victory, hitting one of the buttons on the soundboard and Harry's not quite too sure what sound effect exactly played. Can't remember it all too much.

They'd played it a little after that, after Niall had introduced it formally, no better person to do it, and he'd held his breath the entire time the song had played. He knows it's good, in his own terms. He's not sure what others would have thought of it, but he's proud of it, all the same.

Nick had been more open in his enjoyment of the song, was bopping his head a bit and tapping his pen on his mug and straight up just jamming on the fast bit Liam had helped him out on. He'll be forever thankful to him, for agreeing to help him so much on the record, for featuring in this particular song.

Niall had been more subtle, smiling the whole way through but silent all the same. Doesn't really move, just his cheeks and his smile, growing wider with every other movement in the song. He'd been the one to suggest strings, the bit of echoing. It's to his taste, should be. At the closing seconds of the song, he’d walked over to Harry's side of the table, kissed him quickly and murmured about how proud he was of him.

It was enough validation for him, really. That Niall loved it and Nick thought it was a _tune,_ but it had done incredibly well. Much better than he would have expected, really. Charted and stayed within get the top five in the succeeding weeks. Sold incredibly well on iTunes, and he'd been on a high.

But Niall's been gone and he's worked worked worked, trying to get the fucking record finished, and he's been given a reprieve from the planning. He's exhausted, and it's not lost on his producers, or on Louis. So, of course, they plan and throw him this night out in the town, and El comes along because someone needs to keep them all in order.

They jump from bar to bar, having a few drinks and a dance in each of them, even though Julian’s got another album to help produce tomorrow and Louis has work, but fuck it all. At least, for them.

“You're quiet,” Eleanor remarks as she sits next to Harry in the booth. Louis is smashing it on the dance floor and Julian's not far behind. John’s had his moments tonight, much to their surprise, but he seems like he's tapped out for the night, is just sitting in the booth as well and observing with a pint.

“I'm having a good time,” and he is, was absolutely smashing it with the best of them a few clubs ago. “I just don't have that much energy anymore.”

“I remember when you could have gone at it until the next day,” she says, smiling softly. “Then just hit on the servers or bartenders or whoever and like bring them home. Then do it all again the following day.”

“It wasn't that long ago,” he says.

“Still. Feels like another lifetime.”

“Maybe,” he shrugs it off, because he feels different, from then, but not completely. He's still him, essentially, not as if Niall had changed him completely. Just made him more decent, kinder and more considerate. Nothing bad, he hadn't been made to change who he was.

It's just that he had to grow up, a bit. Niall had allowed him an avenue to do so without totally altering who he was at his core, and he doesn't doubt for a moment that no one else could have done that for him.

He offers to get a refill on their drinks, and goes over to the bar to get their orders. As he goes over, though, he manages to catch one girl watching him intently. She's pretty enough, beautiful really, and when she sees that he's caught her staring, she doesn't look away. Just gives him this smirk and a sly wink, which is. Alright.

She follows him to the bar, and it doesn't take much for him to not look at her, finds that he's not interested, and he hopes that she's not there to talk to him, which, of course, she is.

“Hi,” she greets him sweetly enough, smile still on her face, though now much sharper. “You're quite fit.”

“Thank you,” he says, smiles gently at her, admires her straightforwardness but he doesn't do much else and stares at the bar straight ahead of him, waiting for the drinks. Hopes it's enough to send her off.

“I'm quite sure I know you from somewhere,” she continues, obviously not perturbed by his indifference. “You've got that face. Not so hard to forget.”

“I doubt that, but thank you,” he replies, and she comes closer, leans forward so their faces are quite near.

“You're the one with the voice, yeah? ‘Hey Angel,’” she makes the connection soon enough. She's not wrong, technically, but her remark is vague enough for Harry to think that maybe she doesn't know the song all too well, if at all.

“Depends.”

“Well, you really are extraordinary,” she says. “You've got that look about you. I know we can have a good time.”

“I don't doubt that, but I'm not interested. Sorry, love,” he tells her, and her face falls quickly. She must not used to being turned down, and it makes him feel a little bad. Had this been five years ago, definitely, he would have gone along with it. But it's not five years ago.

“Are you sure? I mean,” she tries to save face, managing to look cheeky and sly again, “I know that you can have anyone in the room, anyone you'd like. You've got that charm. But I know-”

“I'm engaged, love,” he says finally. Probably should have started with that in the first place. “I'm quite positive you don't know who I am, and that's fine. But there's very little chance you don't know him.”

“What are you-”

“Unless, of course, you listen to Capital FM or. Anything that isn't Radio 1,” he says, and it must dawn upon her, because her eyes widen and she stands up straighter.

“You're the one the Irish bloke won't stop talking about?”

He sniggers a bit, “You don't listen too much, do you?”

“Not a morning person, sue me,” she says, coming off a little cross now that it seems clear to her that she won't be able to pull him. She gives up her cover, tells him, “My friend recognized you and pointed you out to me. Just told me you sang that one song, not much else.”

“You probably never even heard the song.”

“You were good looking and it wouldn't have been a bad night,” she shrugs. “Shame you're not available.”

“Yeah, well, I'm sorry,” he says lamely, doesn't know what else to tell her. He follows up his orders, and she doesn't walk away, not just yet. He glances back at her and raises an eyebrow, asks, “What?”

“How old are you?”

“26, but what does it matter to you?”

“You're like, young,” she tells him. “And you've been together how long?”

“A bit more than four years,” he answers, wary because she's asking a lot of questions and he doesn't know her, frankly. “Why? What's with it?”

“You're so young,” she just repeats herself, “and you're about to get married to this guy. Is he worth it?”

“Course he is, but that's not really your business to know-”

“Look, I'm just saying that someone your age, our age,” she gestures between the two of them, “we should be having fun and just throwing caution to the wind.”

“Well, I did that already,” he tells her, smiling when the bartender finally arrived with the drinks. “All through uni, much more than the average person. I've had my quota.”

“But, like. You're giving up so much,” she says, and he frowns, because he doesn't look at it that way. “No, I know what you're thinking, but it's like this. You're just starting up your career, and I may have not heard your music, but my friend seems to love it. Was absolutely shitting it when she recognized you, she's just shy. You've got a whole career ahead of you and so much to explore and you could have anyone, really. But you're going to tie yourself down to this one person for the rest of your life?”

“I love him, why shouldn't I?” Harry tells her, a little irritated because he's like to be polite but he also just wants to run off now that he's got his order. But. He can't stop listening, can't stop thinking. He knows she's got it wrong, that he's happy and content and more than ready to be with Niall the rest of his life. But he can't stop listening anyway, and he hates himself for it.

“I'm not saying you don't,” she says. “It's just that are you sure that you want to do all of the married shit now, when you've got other stuff going on?”

“Okay, Haz, think you've been gone long enough,” Eleanor’s come to his rescue, holding his arms and swerving him away from the girl. “Lovely to meet you,” she calls over her shoulder at her, and she turns to Harry, telling him, “Honestly? Harry, come on, if someone had seen.”

“She wasn't going to get anywhere with me,” he tries to assure her, because he didn't feel any hint of temptation. He really wasn't interested. But, “We just talked.”

“I heard,” she says, sounding unimpressed. “I know you, Harry. You cannot afford to overthink anything she might have told you.”

“I know, El. I'm not-”

“Don't go have a crisis or anything about this, okay?” she says as they settle back to their table, and she takes the daiquiri he had ordered for her. “You love him. He loves you. You're going to get married and have an amazing life together. You're going to have an amazing music career. That's all that matters, okay?”

“Yeah, of course,” he replies, and he takes a sip from his gin and tonic. He loves Niall, nothing can take that from him.

.

“I think it sounds way too much like the other one, Harry,” Julian's saying as they listen to ‘Ready to Run.’ “They're all starting to sound the exact same, I'm telling you. ‘Story of My Life’ was a standout as it was. Do you really have to include this?”

“I don't know, I'm quite fond of it,” he says, frowning. “Is it that similar? We could always arrange the songs so that-”

“Well, I'd say you’re fine, but either song kind of loses its power once you hear the other one. The strength of ‘Story’ was that it didn't sound quite like the other stuff you'd written,” John says.

“Well, could do. Maybe release it for another record, then?” Harry says, though it's kind of making his heart hurt. “Or. I dunno, maybe shelf this problem? Just for a bit? I can't quite get ‘Lifetime’ right.”

“I still think it's too fast,” John says, and Harry agrees readily. “Maybe-”

“May I offer a hand, then?” Ryan comes in, completely out of the blue and everyone goes silent with disbelief. “I heard the rough demo. Thought it was outstanding.”

“Thank you,” Harry says quietly, nervously. As mean as Ryan had been to him, he knows it's on him as well. He's got to be more professional about this, and he was just telling as it was. He understands, and also, Ryan's legendary for a reason. He can't really help but want to work with him.

“It's about your boy, yes?” he asks, and Harry blinks. He's not quite sure, where this is going.

“Yes, it is,” he answers slowly, doesn't know what's going to happen.

“I'd like to work on this one, if you'd let me,” he says, settles in within their circle. “I've got some sort of idea on what to do with it. Make it good for Niall, yeah?”

“Is this an olive branch?” Julian deadpans, and John pokes him hard in the side.

“I was a bit short with you, the other day,” he replies. “Sorry for that, I guess. I'm just telling you how it is. But we can work on the song and move on, yeah?”

“I - yeah, that would be. That would be great,” Harry says, dumbfounded. Can't quite believe it. “Thank you.”

Of course, just when all of that happens, his phones rings and waits for him to pick up, several times. He can see Niall’s grinning profile on the screen, and his heart starts to race.

“Going to get that, Haz?” Julian asks him carefully, and Harry looks back up at the rest of the room. They're all watching him, Julian and John with a look that's encouraging, with not so subtle glances at the phone, which has stopped ringing for a moment, only for a message to come through, saying _‘Harry love just got back to the flat. Missed you. Where are you ? Can we have lunch ?’_

His palms start to sweat, because he misses Niall immensely, as well. They hadn't had a casual lunch together in so long, and he loves him so. But when he looks over to Ryan, who looks a bit resigned and sighing to show for it, he thinks he might only have one more chance to show him how hard he's working for all of this. How he can do this, with or without the connections given to him.

Niall starts calling again, but this time, he locks his phone, cancelling the call. Julian and John look shocked, as well as Ryan, but he looks more pleased and impressed than anything.

“Harry-”

“It's okay, I'll just text him,” he says, cuts John off and smiles at them. “What were your plans with the song, Ryan?”

He ends up texting a little less than half an hour later.

‘Sorry love, busy with the record. Ryan Dunn’s just come in to help with some songs. I'll see you tonight for dinner instead? I love you, sorry for not making lunch.’

Niall replies twenty minutes after he'd sent the message. _‘Yeah, of course. That's great, I know he's magic. It's alright, I'll see you for dinner later. I love you.’_

He doesn't make dinner, is too caught up in the studio, but Niall seems to understand anyway. Is already in bed when he gets back and he stirs slightly when he crawls next to him in bed. Niall offers him a soft kiss, but not much more, too tired to do anything else, and Harry feels awful for missing this, but also. He'd had an amazing day and he's proud of what they'd done with the music. Feels like he's really getting somewhere and it's not much longer now.

He’ll make it up to Niall, some other time.

.

Niall's been incredible this whole time, is the thing.

He's been so supportive and so patient and so helpful. So encouraging and never lost faith in him, not once, the whole time he'd been trying to get his music out in the world.

Teased him and called him pretentious and made jabs at his taste, seeing as most of the music he'd liked had been made years before he'd even been conceived, but Niall's never made fun of him for trying to reach his dreams.

Harry started missing more lunches, more dinners. Missed more planning sessions and meetings and Niall's had to do a lot of it on his own, and Harry cannot be more thankful for him.

Knows how much time this is taking him as well, and he knows that he should at least try to put more effort into this wedding. It's his, after all. But he's got a good thing going, with everything here and he's finally seeing the light at the end of the tunnel. Knows he's not far from finally finishing this fucking thing, and Niall understands. He'd told Harry that it was fine, that he can do some things alone, and Harry is well aware he's not being the best fiancé at the moment, but he will make it up to Niall. He swears.

.

Niall knew then that it would sort of be a risk, asking Harry to marry him at this particular stage of their lives. Niall's been getting offers and he can't do Heartbreak Hero forever. Knows that there are options for him, and he wants to consider Harry when he's making his decision. Harry's doing his music and is finally getting some legitimate traction. His record’s coming out so soon and though Niall hasn't really heard much from it, he knows it will be amazing. He's worked so hard, and he knew.

He knew that asking Harry at this time would have taken a toll, but he needed to know. He had to know that Harry would want, be willing to be a part of this future, because he wouldn't want to spend it with anyone else, frankly. And Harry had said yes, and he could not have been more happy.

So he's patient with Harry. He is fully aware, that working on his album and trying to get everything organized and set for this wedding would be a right nightmare for anyone, so he understands that Harry would be late to meeting or leave them early or not attend at all, which is happening much more often now than before. And when he's there, he might as well not be, and Niall ends up making the decisions anyway.

He understands, and while he's definitely not happy about it, he gets it. He's patient. He completely gets why Harry's not as invested in all of this as he is. So that's not what's getting to him.

He's scared. Scared that Harry isn't interested because his world is just starting up. Got a whole career ahead of him and now he's getting hitched and he knows it's hard.

He hopes Harry will just. Talk to him, tell him the truth, assure him of something. At this point, it's what he's holding on to.

.

“Yeah, I get it. No, it's cool, love, I understand,” Niall's saying, running a hand through his hair because he doesn't know quite what else to do with his free hand as he talks to Harry on the phone.

_“I'm sorry, love. I know it's getting a bit much to do on your own,”_ Harry says, and there's sounds of people having a bit of an argument behind him, heated and angry. _“Ryan, no, come on, just because he's not doing what you want him to - sorry, Ni. Ryan's being a bit pissy. Julian doesn't quite like the way he's making this one song sound.”_

“And you don't like it either, by the sound of your voice,” he says, and he smirks a little when Harry sighs, showing his confirmation. “It's okay, Haz. You'll get there.”

_“This one's a special one, though. Want it to sound right.”_

“And it will,” he says. “Don't overthink, I know what you're like. Just do what you feel is right.”

_“I love you,”_ Harry says, easy as breathing, and Niall will never tire of hearing it. _“Thank you. I love you so much.”_

“I love you too,” he replies, small smile on his face. “I'll see you soon.”

_“Okay. I'm sorry again.”_

“Okay, love,” he says, hangs up, and he sighs as he keeps his phone. He's been doing this a lot lately. He understands that Harry's busy, but he's busy as well. He can't do all of this alone.

He didn't think that a wedding. Their wedding, of all things, would cause a predicament like this.

He walks back into the shop, and sits back down on the couch next to Nick, who's laughing gleefully, yelling, “Come on now, Soph, get out of there-”

_“No,_ fuck you very much, Grimshaw,” she yells out from the other side of the wall separating the dressing rooms from the salon. “Not on your fucking life-”

“Soph! Niall's just gotten back! Gonna let him down like this.”

“Oh shut it, Nick, you're so full of yourself,” she hisses at him, walking out to them and she looks angry, seething. Niall would be too, had he been made to wear the frankly hideous frock she's got on. Copper gold with cap sleeves and a full bottom with _butterflies,_ bloody fuck, with too much ruching, looks delicious in the worst way possible.

“Why have you got a cupcake on?” Niall's muttering, making Nick guffaw loudly.

“Saw it on the reject rack, made Soph try it,” he says happily, grinning. “Blackmail will get you everywhere,” he brings out his phone, takes several shots of her glowering at him.

“It was there on that rack for a reason, you shit,” she huffs.

“Don't tell me - I'm pretty sure that's not what Haz and I ordered, like, _no,”_ he says, can't quite wrap his head around the dress she's got on. Surely lovely on the right person, maybe. But no, that won't pass in his wedding.

“Oh, no, it's not,” Grimmy’s saying, eyes intent on his phone as he scrolls through his photostream.

“Your taste, Niall,” Eleanor’s walking out in a much nicer dress, champagne colored and artfully draped, structured and hugging her figure perfectly. She looks like she's floating in it, shimmering just slightly and she's beaming at them, “Honestly. Your taste.”

“Oh, goddess,” Nick is murmuring, staring at her as she floats over to them.

“Fuck you, Nick, I'm going to try my dress on now,” Sophia mutters, gathering the skirt of her dress and retreating back to the dressing room, one of the attendants scrambling to help her.

“Think it's okay?” he says, and he likes it, honestly, but he's not really familiar on how women wear clothes. “It's fine, right? Harry wanted something with more glitter, but. Well. He wasn't there when we had to choose, so.”

“It's lovely, Niall,” she replies, but she's got this frown on her face now, and it looks strange on her. “He wasn't there?”

“Um, no,” he answers quietly. Feels like it's been happening a lot more than he's realized, now.

“And where's he now?” Grimmy's asking, eyebrows furrowed in question.

“He couldn't make it.”

“How many appointments has he missed, now?” she asks, stands in front of them and looking beautifully stern.

“I don't know,” he says, feels his chest go tight.

“Niall,” Nick’s sounding stiff, turns to look at him. “What the fuck happened to your guide to not being a shit? Has he forgotten all about that? I've gone to more meetings and appointments with you than he has. Last time I checked, I'm not the the one you're marrying.”

“I know, fuck. I know this is shit,” he says, “I know he's being a shit. But I'm trying to be considerate too. He's just getting this new chapter started. I want to be there for him and try to keep him in mind as well.”

“But you're a priority too, is the thing, Ni,” Eleanor tells him. “You shouldn't be put on the back burner.”

“Harry's amazing,” Sophia comes out then, looking very much like a queen in her own champagne gown, “but you're being too lenient with him, love.”

“He can't keep going on like this,” El says then. “I love him, but he over thinks a lot of the time, and - well.”

“What are you trying to tell me?” he asks, his heart racing and making an unpleasant feeling spread across his chest.

“It's just that, a lot of people, a lot of people who've got absolutely no business in his personal life, mind, but. He's been told that getting married so young and just when he's starting, it's not ideal,” she says as she takes a seat next to him on the couch.

“Who told him that?” Niall murmurs, feels worse than before.

“They don't matter,” she says firmly. “They're wrong. They don't know the two of you. They don't know how good for each other the both of you are. And he knows they're wrong, is the thing. He's just not himself right now.”

“It's important for you to realize, Ni, that it's not your fault in any way, for the way he's acting,” Sophia tells him then. Sits next to Nick, and they all try to hug him, trying to comfort him some. Niall just feels like is world is falling apart and as much as he tries, all he can do is watch. “You've done nothing but try to keep his interests at heart and make this wedding happen.”

“I know, I know I'm not doing anything really wrong,” he says, and he fights the stupid urge to cry building up behind his eyelids. He will not cry over his fiancé. Not tears of hopelessness, at the very least. “But it’s his career. It’s his life, and I knew it was going to be hard, but the time felt right.”

“You shouldn’t have to feel bad about proposing to him, Nialler,” Nick tells him. “But he’s not the only one you should be thinking about. You’ve got a life too, outside of your relationship. I know you’ve got your own shit to think about. It’s not fair that you give more effort into this than he does.”

“I wouldn’t want to make him choose between me and his music. I wouldn’t want him to make me choose between him and being Heartbreak Hero.”

“That’s not the point we’re making here,” Sophia says patiently. “We’re not saying that either of you have to choose something over the other. We’re saying that he needs to step up, and show you that he really wants this.”

“We know you’re strong Nialler. Can plan this whole wedding on your own should you choose to, and fifty more if you so wanted,” Grimmy says, playing with Niall’s hair as if to comfort him. “But, I think someone needs to tell you how it is. You just doing everything while Harry's off not helping you out. You’re not really acting how Hero would, right now.”

The words hurt much more than Niall would like to admit, because he can't deny them. He knows full well that they're right. And more than anything, it makes him ashamed, embarrassed because he _has_ to know better. Isn't following his own bloody advice.

“I know. I'm just, shit,” he says, heaves a shuddering breath. “I'm just terrified. I'm scared that Harry might just not be interested anymore. I don't know-”

“Oh, Niall, you know that's not true,” Eleanor says softly, reaches over to rub his knee. “If I can vouch for anything, it's how much Harry loves you.”

“I'd like to think so,” he says quietly, “but. I don't know what to tell you. Honestly, I haven't felt like this since I'd suspected something had been going on with Zayn and Perrie.”

“Ni,” Grimmy murmurs, and he cuddles him even more. What a sight they must be in the middle of this dress salon, all piled into one couch and practically spooning.

“I get where Haz is coming from, really,” he tells them. “I understand, but I'm not excusing it. It's just. It's scary, and I really, really hope I'm not doing all of this for nothing.”

.

It seems a bit like a miracle, that they're almost done with the record. Just a few more songs to polish and organization and layout and whatever. Easy easy. Fina- _fucking_ -lly.

Julian and John are feeling rather celebratory as well, and they bring him out for a drink once the day’s been called. They mean well, Harry's sure, and he loves them. Appreciates them so fucking much for all that they've done, for all the help they've given and their patience with him. They're amazing.

But he doesn't think that they really realize that alcohol, historically, doesn't quite agree with Harry.

He has one drink. Something fruity and delicious and colorful. They let him have another because it looked like a rainbow, and then another, before they realized their lethal mistake.

They try to get him to stop at drink number 3, but Harry is charming and manages to get the bartender to give him another drink. Then another. Just sort of snowballs from there.

When he gets tipsy, he gets real flirty. He manages to contain it, somewhat, just goes around nuzzling and koala-ing them. Doesn't strip anyone of their shirts, doesn't flirt with any of the servers, especially none named Phil. He's refrained, stopped himself. Which is really very good, on his part.

When he gets drunk, though, his lips loosen a great deal. His brain starts going into overdrive in the worst possible way, and his heart cracks itself open. So of course he ends up talking.

_“Fuck,_ fuck, maybe I shouldn't have had the Fallon,” he moans. His head throbs and everything is going by really slow. He's way past the happy drunk stage.

“You shouldn't have gotten any of those last, maybe four drinks, Harry,” one of them, can't quite tell them apart at the moment, tells him. They sound tried, resigned to the fact of having to babysit him. Well.

“I know. It's just that, ever since we started like, really planning this shit, I don't know,” he starts saying, and the truth is going to come out now. “Maximum effort on everything, ha. Need to de-stress somehow.”

“Harry, you're smashed,” he thinks John says, and he can feel them trying to pull him upright. He staggers on to his feet, and all of a sudden, they're outside, the bitingly cold air stinging his cheeks.

“I love Niall,” he says, though no one’s asked. “I love him. Best of my life, he is.”

“We don't doubt that,” they tell him, and they flank him on either side, hoisting him up.

“I love him so much,” he says, “and I feel terrible. Awful. I'm such a bad fiancé. Husband-to-be. Baby Groot would never treat him this way.”

They make confused noises, clearly not understanding, but it doesn't matter, if they don't. He can't stop talking, spilling the contents of his heart and letting it be known.

“I know I should be better, I know I should be helping,” he says, and he starts tearing up. Feels like his chest is about to split open, and he feels awful. “I know, and he's so kind and patient but I don't know what I'm doing anymore. I don't know.”

They go quiet for a moment, and then he thinks it's Julian who speaks, tells him, “Harry, it's okay if you're scared. It's a big life change.”

“I _am_ scared, I'm terrified,” he hiccups, and the world is spinning around him. “I don't know, I love him. I love him, but the record and my music and everything. Everything is just starting up and I don't know what the fuck I'm supposed to do.”

“Harry,” John’s calm voice tries, “everything will be fine. You're almost done, you're good. And Niall will be there for you every step of the way. He loves you, he'll support you. You don't have to doubt him.”

_“I'm not,”_ he says, “I'm not doubting him. Of all things, he's not what I'm doubting. I'm just. I don't know if I want all of this, now. I don't know.”

Julian and John don't say much else, and as soon as they help Harry settle into the back of the car, he's out like a light.

.

Niall had hoped that Harry would at least be available for _this,_ but it's moot. His patience and love for his fiancé can only take him so far. He doesn't know where the hell he is, his messages and calls are ignored, and he's getting fed up, but he has to stay sane, today of all days.

“Anne, Robin. Des,” he smiles as they exit the vehicle, and she has her grin on her face, bright and wide and reminiscent of her son’s, as she goes to accept his hug wholeheartedly. He shakes Robin's and Des’s hands, and steps aside so they can greet his parents. They'd always gotten along rather well, and it never fails to warm his heart, how friendly his and Harry's parents are with each other. Holidays are never boring.

“Okay, so,” Charlotte, the planner, gathers them, herds them into the great dining hall. It's as posh as Niall remembers. “This is where the reception will be held, can fit up to five hundred people.”

“Did you invite that many, love?” Anne's asking him then, looking about the room.

“Well,” he tries, looks over to Charlotte because he's not quite so sure himself. Harry had never really confirmed how many of his friends and family he'd invited, so. “Let's just say this room will be very full.”

“It's going to be great,” she says, tries to assure them all with a beam. “It's going to be very elegant and classic. We’ll be sure to make it according to the couple’s tastes.”

“So, Niall’s, right?” Anne says, face completely serious. “I love my son but he's got a horrendous tattoo of that mermaid on his arm. And I assume you've seen the way he dresses-”

“I like his style,” Niall pouts. “I mean, not for me, but it suits him.”

“You love him much more than I do, then,” she tells him. “And where will the wedding take place?”

“There's a private function room a few floors up, very intimate and lovely. Meant for the very special guests and it'll be amazing.”

“Oh, so not everyone will be at the ceremony?”

They go like that for a bit, exchanging questions and answers and Niall is wondering why Harry isn't here all the while. He leaves them just as they're discussing color motifs and catering options, and he goes out to the hallway to make a phone call.

It rings several times, then some, until the call falls through. He huffs, irritated, and makes another call, and another.

_“Hello?”_ Harry finally fucking answers in the fifth or something call, and his voice is already much slower than his usual dragging drawl, deeper and slightly groggy. Niall didn't think he could get much more annoyed, but.

“Harry, are you fucking drunk?” he says, hissing at his phone. “Harry, what the _fuck._ Where are you?”

_“‘M pretty sure I'm at John’s,”_ he answers, and he yawns, long and loud. _“Went out for a few drinks last night, forgot my key. Somewhere. I don't know. I think in the studio. Didn't want to wake you up.”_

“How fucking thoughtful,” he mutters, and he cannot believe any of this. “Why aren't you here?”

_“Why aren't I where?”_

“Harry. Please do not tell me you forgot,” he says, and he's just about to lose it.

_“Niall,”_ he eventually says, sighing after an uncomfortably long moment of silence. Niall is slowly losing hope, doesn't know what to hold on to, right now. _“I. I'm sorry, I really don't know.”_

“Fucking _hell,_ Haz,” he says, and he hopes his disappointment comes across clear in his voice. He's so tired and fed up of all of this. “I'm at the hotel with our parents. We were supposed to bring them around and have lunch.”

_“Oh. Oh shit, Ni,”_ he sounds slightly more awake, a bit more urgent. _“Niall, I'm sorry, I'll. I'll try to catch up for lunch-”_

“Don't bother, you know what you're like when you're hungover, it'll last at least until the afternoon,” he mutters, and he knows he sounds harsh, knows he probably should stop talking. He doesn't, goes on to add, “Guess I'll have to do this one alone, too. Should be right up my alley, yeah?”

Harry is silent on the other end. Then, _“Don't. You're not being fair.”_

“I'm being plenty fair, Harry, fuck off,” he says, venomous. “Where the fuck have you been this whole time? I've been really patient, haven't I? I'm not asking for much. I just want you to be straight with me and you're not even giving me that.”

_“You know I have a shitload to think about,”_ Harry retorts, and he only talks at this pace, faster and enough to make his words slur a bit, when he's angry. _“I'm not actively trying to ignore you, Ni. God’s sake, I'm getting married to you. I'm not doing this on purpose.”_

“You're marrying me? This is news,” he spits out bitterly, and he glances back to the ballroom, sees that his father and Anne are watching him carefully, with concerned looks on their faces, and he can do this now. He gives them a smile, shakes his head and mouths, _‘I got this,’_ and he sighs into his phone, turning his back to them. “We'll talk about this later. I have to bring them to the restaurant.”

_“Fine,”_ he mutters, sounding as frustrated as Niall feels.

“You _will_ be home, when I get back before seven? Think you can be there?” He knows his tone is cruel, knows that this won't help anything, but he can't fake a neutral tone, cannot pretend that this is okay, not anymore. And he'd prefer for Harry to hear him like his, rather than desperate and lonely and sad. Disappointed.

_“Oh, I'll do my best,”_ is Harry's reply, short and just as falsely, sugary sweet, and he hangs up the phone.

Niall desperately wants to cry, right at that moment. Feels his chest tighten and constrict and he'd never thought. Really, that a wedding would cause them all of this stress.

He straightens himself up, breathes deeply to stop the tears, and puts on a smile. Turns back to return to the ballroom, and fakes it. For everyone’s sakes.

.

Harry doesn't leave their flat the entire day. Goes straight there after John and his wife had kindly offered him a shower and a meal, and he couldn't focus on finishing any music or anything related to work, in any case, so he had gone home.

He can't stay still, once he gets there. Tries to clean, but there's nothing that needs cleaning, Niall's too neat and organized to not leave the place messy. Tries to read, but fuck that. The words all blur together when he finds himself fixated on certain phrases, can't move past them. Finds something that will remind him of Niall in everything he's read thus far, so he doesn't bother. Tries to listen to music, to each a film, to sleep. Can't, not a thing. Can't do anything, because too many things remind him off his love, so he just doesn't, instead.

Finds himself just sat on the couch and waiting for him to come back from bringing their parents around, and he feels bad enough as it was, with the way he'd been acting. Feels all that much worse for forgetting that this was something that was supposed to happen. But he's also angry, a little. He doesn’t really know why, because Niall's anger is founded. It's not for nothing, and he knows this, he's aware of this, and yet. Niall's lack of patience, his reactions today, have made Harry very angry, very miffed, very sad.

He honestly doesn't know what going to happen, once Niall gets here. Doesn't know what they're going to do, say to each other, whatever. He doesn't know, and it's daunting and makes his heart go into overdrive.

He's very much awakes and very much sober when he hears keys at the door. He watches as Niall comes in, ignores every thought related to how handsome he looks, how the wind’’s made his skin the slightest pink, how well the glasses suit him. Harry had picked these frames, a little rounder, softer for his face. Instead, he thinks about how Niall just doesn’t seem to want to be here. How his posture’s off and he’s making every effort to not look up, finding the carpet or the wood panels of the floor very interesting. When he does glance up at Harry, his eyes are very telling of his frustration and disappointment. His shoulders give him away as well, and Harry sorely wishes he wouldn’t look at him like that, though he knows he deserves it.

“How was lunch?” he decides to ask first, several seconds of silence, turning into minutes, prompting him to speak. He and Niall are never good with quiet between them, never have been.

“Lunch was good,” he answers, coming to stand in front of him. Harry desperately tries not to remember that the not too long ago, maybe a few months had past since they’d been in this area of their flat together, and they’d fucked, high on their newly engaged status, ruined another rug. They still hadn’t come around to setting up the new one Grimmy had happily gifted them. “Brought them to your favorite place. Anne really is your mum, you both cried over chicken and waffles.”

“They're amazing,” Harry mumbles, and his heart aches for all of this. Wants so badly to just go back to being them, to stop worrying about everything and take a minute to breathe.

“You were supposed to be there,” Niall tells him, voice quiet and the ache is clear in his voice.

“I'm sorry,” he replies sincerely. He really, really is. “I didn't mean to forget, I just. I'm sorry.”

“Harry, why'd you forget in the first place?” he asks, “Why weren't you there? I'm tired and fed up with doing everything on my own. I thought you'd come to this lunch with our parents in the very least, you know this was important. Why weren't you there when I needed you?”

“Niall,” he begins, throat clogged and his words can't seem to leave his mouth properly. “I. I promise, I never meant to not go. I never meant to leave you short handed. I just. It got too much for me. I didn't know what to do.”

“What got too much?” he's asking, and his voice is thin. Harry knows he's not believing him. “That you're getting married now? That this might be taking up too much time from your music? Or that _I'm_ the one you're getting married to?”

“Jesus, Niall, no,” Harry murmurs, stands and tries to move towards him, but Niall backs away, staring hard at him. “No. That's not it.”

“Then by all means, please enlighten me,” Niall's saying, and Harry is well aware that he's upset. But he's upset too.

“Niall, I just. This is big, you know?” Harry says, and he stares back at him. “This is such a big life change, and it's going on at the same time as this new thing with the music. I just got overwhelmed, and I didn't know how to handle it all.”

“So you just ignored me?” Niall says, “Just left me in the ditch so that I'd do everything and all you'd have to do come the day of our wedding was show up? It doesn't work that way, Haz!”

“I know it doesn't, Ni,” he says, endlessly frustrated that Niall's not understanding. “I'm aware that it doesn't work like that. I wanted to help, I know you needed me, but everything's just coming at me so fast, and I lost control of it all.”

“I told you to talk to me, didn't I?” he says, and Harry shuts his eyes. Has to, because yes, he did. “I told you to tell me if you weren't feeling it, or if you were having trouble or. Anything, Harry. I just wanted you to talk to me and tell me what was going on with you, I wouldn't have been mad.”

“Really? Like the way you're not mad now?”

“I'm not - Fuck you, Harry,” he says, eyes blown and his skin flushed. “I'm angry because you _didn't talk to me,_ in the first place. You lead me to believe that this was all okay when it wasn't.”

“I told you, I'm sorry!” he almost yells, and he comes forward again. Is undeterred when Niall doesn't come near him. “I'm sorry for being a shit fiancé, I'm sorry for making this all so hard on you. I'm sorry that I went and got drunk before we had to have lunch with our parents because I couldn't pretend to be excited about all of this!”

“What the fuck do you mean by that?” Niall is glaring at him, his eyes blazing behind the lenses of his glasses and he stands defiantly in front of him, finally comes closer, only to stare at him, challenging him.

“I couldn't do it anymore, Niall!” he says, “I couldn't take everything! We're both so young, we both have our whole lives in front of us, why is this all happening now?”

“I knew it,” Niall mutters, shaking his head and scoffing at him, and they've had their fights over the years. Arguments and tantrums and they've never been perfect, by any means, but they'd never had a fight of this caliber. Never one that seemed to threaten the strength of their relationship. “I knew that you would let their words get to you, I knew you'd doubt all of this.”

“Since when did your faith in me become nonexistent?” Harry asks him, his voice hard and his heart breaks in his chest. Niall never lost his faith in him, but now. “Why are you thinking of me that way?”

“Harry, why are we fighting about our fucking _wedding?”_ Niall says, “Why would you listen to them when all you had to do was talk to me? I love you, you fucking twat, I'll always listen to you! Why didn't you just talk to me?”

“God, Niall, I don't know! I'm not in the right mind, to do this with you.”

“Fucking - Harry, I've done my best to be patient, I've done my best to understand everything that's happening with you,” he says, tries to calm his voice and be reasonable, but Harry is stubborn if anything. “I tried to be open about this.”

He doesn't say anything, just feels his eyes blue and sting with the promise of tears, and looks down at the floor to avoid Niall's gaze. He knows all of this. He's fully aware, and he doesn't know what to say.

“Harry, I'm doing my best here,” Niall says, “Just tell me what you really want. Tell me the truth.”

“You want the truth?” he says, and he's seething, “you want to know what I want? I don't know! Maybe that's the exact problem, I don't know! I don't know where I'm going with the music shit, I don't know where exactly I'm going with you, really. I don't know what the fuck is going on, I don't know if I want to get married, now or ever! I don't _fucking know.”_

He breathes hard, once he's said everything. Tries to get his heart rate to slow down, for his limbs and fingers to stop trembling so much. Then, he really lets his words sink in. And his heart drops to the pit of his stomach, turning sour and his chest gets tight and painful and filled with _no no no no._ Wants to snatch the words back desperately, cannot believe that they'd even come out of his mouth.

“Niall,” he breathes, looking up and he feels like his heart is slowly being ripped out of his chest, seeing Niall stare at him with a heartbroken look on his face, betrayed and crushed. He looks devastated, his chest moving as he breathes, trying to stave off tears that film over his eyes, and Harry feels awful beyond relief. “Niall, I'm sorry. I didn't mean-”

“Yeah, you did,” Niall says quietly, sounding defeated and Harry knows then, that he’d completely fucked up. “Don’t lie. You’ve thought it. I know you have. I can’t believe you lied to me.”

_“No,_ no, Niall, please,” Harry says, steps forward and tries to hold him, but Niall evades him. “Please, I’m sorry. I’m fucking up so much, please-”

“I’ll just. I’ll stay somewhere else, for tonight,” he says, sounding choked, and Harry shakes his head, blinks rapidly as the tears fall completely beyond his control. “I don’t want to make you leave-”

“Please, Niall, I’m sorry,” he says, finally moving quick enough to grab Niall and hold him close. Clings to him and hides his face in his neck, holding on to him desperately and he cries, cries for so long. Niall is still against him, making no move to embrace him as well, but Harry can feel his body shiver against his and tremble as he does when he cries. “I didn't mean it, I swear. I promise.”

“I'm tired, Haz,” he says, removes himself from his embrace and he doesn't look at him. Harry's chest aches all the more, feels himself break. “I’ll just-”

_“Niall,”_ he sobs, can’t hold his tears in much longer and he just cries. Feels like he’s only a few moments away from getting on his knees, ask for forgiveness. “I’m sorry, I love you, I’m sorry. Please, don’t leave.”

“I _can’t_ stay here, I can’t look at you without feeling devastated,” Niall refuses to look at him, his voice shaky and choked. “You’re breaking my heart, I can’t.”

“Please, _please,”_ he says, crying. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

Niall doesn’t reply, or speak, make any noise of any sort. He just walks away, shoves off Harry’s advances and pleas, goes to their bedroom and packs a bag. Harry tries to stop him, heart in his throat and chest threatening to burst open with how everything hurts. Niall doesn’t listen, doesn’t pay attention, shrugs off Harry’s attempts to calm him down and make him stay, just opens drawers and wardrobes and throws his clothes into his gym bags.

“Niall, _Niall,_ please,” Harry cries, pulls him into a tight embrace from behind and holds him, tries to keep him there. “Please, let me explain.”

“I don’t think you’d even know what to say,” he replies quietly after a few beats of stillness. Harry holds him tighter, cries even harder. “Let me go, love.”

“No, _no,”_ he pleads, tightening his arms over Niall’s chest and burying his face in neck. Lets his tears fall there. “Niall, I just-”

“Harry, I can’t,” Niall says, voice soft and tired. “Please. Please, let me go. Please, love. Let me have this. Just. I need to leave, before I resent you. I need time.”

“Niall, I’m sorry,” he says, tries one last time, knowing his voice is cracking and he’s trembling against him, but he has to try. “I love you, I’m sorry-”

“But you don’t want to marry me,” he says with all finality, hollow and void of emotion, and Harry whimpers. Doesn’t think he’s cried so much, but. Then again, he had brought this problem upon them. His fault.

“I,” he tries, but Niall brings his hands up to his mouth. Leaves a lingering press of his lips on his knuckles, over the heels of his palms, and Harry swears that he feels his tears mark his skin.

“I love you. I’m sorry,” Niall says, then he takes his bags and he gets out before Harry can react. When he does, he scrambles clumsily after him, tries to stop him, but Niall calls out, “Harry, please, just let me-”

“No, not until you talk to me,” he says weakly, and Niall stills.

“Oh, like you talked to me?” he says, looking back at him, deep unhappiness very present in his eyes. “I just need some time.” And he’s gone, closing the door behind him and Harry thinks to follow him, but. Niall had asked, and he’ll do as he’s asked, even if it’s too late for it now.

He collapses on the couch, crying and sobbing and breathing hard to try to calm himself down, and it all hurts. His fault, and the ring on his fourth finger mocks him.

.

Niall drives. Drives and drives until he’s forced to stop for petrol, and only when he gets out of the car for coffee in the little shop in the station does he realize the late hour. He’d been driving for more than a few hours, couldn’t even let himself cry in the car. Felt numb and just. He couldn’t bear to think about what had transpired. Doesn’t even know if they’re still even engaged. He’s crushed.

He thinks; Liam’s in Australia, by now. He knows Soph’s made the trip to be there as well, so he can’t call them. He wouldn’t want to intrude, disturb them with his woes. He can’t tell his parents, or Harry’s. He doesn’t want them to worry, they’re leaving in a few days as well, so. Louis and El, they’d be kind enough to let him stay with them, but he knows Harry would have probably called them up by now. If not, then he eventually will, and Niall, as much as he knows that Harry had fucked up, he doesn’t want have to go through this without someone to talk to. He knows that Louis and Eleanor would be the first people he’d call, so he doesn’t want to put anyone in an inconvenient position. So, he calls Nick. Wouldn’t want to intrude, he knows Nick likes to have these little parties at his place and whatnot, but he’d like to have someone on his side.

_“Nialler,”_ Nick greets him on the phone on the fourth ring, very much awake just after one in the morning. They both have to be up by half five, as they're a pair of idiots. _“You're never up this late, to what do I owe the pleasure”_

“Can I come over?” he asks, tries to do it quickly before he breaks down and cries. “Haz and I had a fight, and. I don't know what I'm going to do anymore, I-”

_“Hey, Ni, hey,”_ he says, soothes him, though slightly alarmed. _“You had a fight? About what?”_

“Can - can I please come over first?” he says, just short of begging. “I'll tell you what happened, but I left the flat a few hours ago and-”

_“A few hours? Niall, where've you - alright, it doesn't matter,”_ he's saying quickly, _“of course you can stay with me, Niall. As long as you need.”_

“Thank you, Nick,” he breathes, and he holds himself off from crying as best as he can.

He doesn't manage to control himself, as soon as Nick’s let him in and has a cup of tea waiting for him. He finally allows his tears to fall when Nick’s explaining to him that he'd gotten the guest room ready for him, that he's welcome for as long as needed. He cries, tries to hide it in his hands, and Nick stops talking immediately. He gathers him in his arms, holding him and not saying anything.

“What happened, Nialler?” he's asking gently, setting Niall's glasses down and pushing his hair back. “What did he do?”

Niall shakes his head, sniffing and throat choked. He heaves a great breath, says quietly, “I don't. I can't do this now. I'm just. Shit.”

“Hey, hey, it's alright,” he says, tightening his hold and rubbing his back in smooth motions. “When you're ready, yeah?”

“I’d want to be slightly less devastated,” he tells him. “I'm sorry, Nick, I'm just barging in-”

“None of that now,” he’s shushing him, helps him with his bags as they go to the room. “You're fine, Nialler. You'll be fine. You tell me when you're ready.”

He doesn't turn out to be ready for at least another week. Nick doesn't push, though.

.

Harry's a mess. He can't sleep on their bed, stays on the couch though it's horrid for his back, can't really stay in the flat all that much because it seems to mock him, every turn and every space reminding him of his fiancé. He still wears the ring, thumbs along the smooth metal almost every minute, and it makes him anxious and calm, all at once. It's punishing.

He calls, tries to, maybe a few times a day. And Niall never calls back, but he replies to his texts, at the very least. Lets Harry know that he's been staying at Grimmy’s, that he's okay, that he's still sad, that he loves him. It's not nearly enough, but it _is_ something.

He tries to work, attempts and he should have been done with it, has all the songs he needs, but a whole influx of material had been written within a few days, and the producers didn’t want them neglected. He hates the material he's coming up with. It's not bad, by Julian’s and John’s standards. They actually quite like it, but it kills Harry slowly. He hates thinking about it, hates remembering it, hates it. Doesn't want to have to do anything with it. They come all at once, and then it’s all gone, like everything he'd wanted to say tried to leave and surge out of his body at one time, but he can't do any more.

He's not focusing as much, has lost his drive and is just being generally shitty, though he's trying his utmost to not be. It's not lost on Julian and John, who watch him carefully and they don't ask what happened, but it seems to be obvious, anyway.

“Harry, if you're not feeling like doing this now,” John is saying, after a few hopeless hours of uninspiring work. Harry feels awful, is so close to crying in frustration and many other emotions. “We can take the day off, it seems like you're just not in the state of mind.”

“I'm sorry,” he says. Seems like he'd been saying that quite often, lately. “It's just. Niall and I aren't currently. Fuck. I'm sorry-”

“It's okay, Harry,” Julian says softly. “That can stay between the two of you if you want it to be. You don't have to explain yourself to us, we understand.”

“I'm sorry,” he says again. Doesn't know what else to say. “I'm sorry. I know I should be working, but it's getting to me.”

“Have you tried talking to him?”

“He doesn't want to talk to me right now,” he answers quietly. “And I get where he's coming from. It was my fault.”

“You'll be okay,” Julian tells him. John pats his knee. “Whatever happens. You two will be fine.”

Harry stays quiet, because he knows that whatever will come out of his mouth won't be very pleasant. He stares down at the worn pages of his leather journal instead, over the lyrics he'd scrawled, and they'd finished it a few days ago. It's depressing, feels like he'd written it in another body. Doesn't seem like the words had come from him, it's as if. Niall had given him the thought, written it through him, and it's tragically beautiful.

“Let's release this one next,” he says, knowing that it will give him grief, but nothing else seems right.

.

“Good morning if you lot are just tuning in,” Nick says into the mic, “Grimmy over here, and coming up in a few, Heartbreak Hero, and by extension, Sunshine Hotline! Got a great morning ahead for you, so stay tuned. In the meantime, a little throwback, something by Fink.”

He hits play on ‘Yesterday Was Hard on All of Us’, orchestra version, and Niall sighs into his tea from the other side of the booth. Seems appropriate, for what's happened.

“Doesn't seem like your usual playlist,” he says as soon as Grimmy makes his way to him. “Bit depressing.”

“Watched him the other day, couldn't not include him,” he explains as he makes his own cup. “He's ancient, yeah? Well, fine, not really, but he really seems it, but like, great. Brought out Hozier at one point, it was legend.”

“Glad someone here’s having fun,” he says, and Nick looks to him. “Ay, sorry. I’m trying not to be intolerable.”

“It’s alright,” he says, shrugging a bit.

“I promise I’ll tell you,” Niall swallows with difficulty. Doesn’t know when and how, but he will. “Just need to figure out how to say it without me breaking down.”

“You know, I think it would suffice to just say, ‘Harry was a twat,’” he supplies, and as much as it does make Niall smile, he knows that’s not just it. Niall can tell that Nick’s aware of this as well, but it’s enough, for the moment.

They’re on the air, after twenty minutes of songs. Nick introduces him, as is the daily routine, and Niall laughs and puts a mask of lightness to his crushed state. He has a job to do, and he’s always been good at it, one way or another.

“Yes, yes, cheers to my mate Che, who’s listening, and to Payno who’s livestreaming us because, and I quote, _‘the fans have tracked down the hotel, me and Soph are stuck here, tell them to go away.’_ Don’t think I’ve got much power over that, Liam, sorry mate. All the way over in Perth, at the moment,” Niall says, thumbing through his phone and grinning at the messages sent to him. “He’s going to do a few shows over there, so if you happen to be listening, go watch him, you’d be in for a treat. Also, if you’re at the hotel, leave Liam alone. He’d like his boxers back, please.”

“Oh, not again!” Grimmy fake-gasps, cackling loudly at his misfortune. “Tell me it’s not the red ones.”

“Nope, it’s the flower-patterned ones Haz and I gave him for Valentine’s a few years back,” he reads, tries not to let his voice falter. He swallows, avoids clearing his throat because it’s a no-no for radio broadcasts, says, “Oh, then that’s fine, those were atrocious.”

“Who let Magpie pick out clothing? Ghastly.”

“You shop at the same places, Grim.”

“Ghastly,” he repeats, tutting at him. “I - oh, and speaking of Magpie,” he’s saying slowly, reading off his notes for today’s show. He frowns, but he doesn’t let it be heard, when he says, “Just remembered that he’s releasing another song today.”

“Oh?” Niall says, smiles, but he’s completely taken aback. He hadn’t even known; it’s not like he’s been asking to kept in the loop of the progress of Harry’s work, he lets him do as he needs, but he’d always been a part of it, somehow. He’d heard a thing or two, helped him along, and Harry had always been so pleased to show him particular song hooks or excerpts or the like. He’d been proud of the music, as Harry had been proud of it. Then now, he hadn’t even been informed that he was releasing another song.

“Yeah, he just Beyonce’d a song, amazing. Mr. Styles is moving up the music world mighty quickly,” Nick says, keeping it light and energetic, but he keeps a watchful eye on Niall. “Must be proud of him, yeah, NiNi?”

“Course,” he says, breathes deeply. “He’s great, works real hard. Couldn’t be prouder.”

“Would you like to introduce your Magpie, then, Hero?” he asks, carefully, and Niall panics internally. Looks at Nick and knows that it shows in his face, and Nick recovers for him, says, “Oh! Nope, you’ll just go off on a tangent about how much you love him, nevermind, I’ll do it. Cannot deal with you loved up idiots.”

Niall sends him a grateful look, and Nick pats his hand. Begins, “Regardless of how you know him, as Harry Styles, Magpie, that dude Heartbreak Hero is sickeningly in love with, you can’t really say he can’t make a banger of a tune. Or am I speaking too soon? Ah, well, anyway. This is ‘Infinity,’ you’re still listening to The Breakfast Show, on BBC Radio 1.”

He plays the song, and it feels like it couldn’t be more different from ‘Hey Angel.’ Niall listens to Harry sing about wax poetic about infinity, his pretentious shit of a fiancé saying he’s _‘one step closer to being two steps far from you,’_ and something about wanting the truth, and he’s a professional, but there’s only so much he can take.

He’s crying by the second chorus, his chest getting tight and it gets hard to breathe. He removes his glasses as it gets difficult for him to see, sets it on the table and he turns his microphone off. Muffles his mouth with his hand and he cries and cries and he loves him so much that he hates him. Listens his voice soar and it hurts him so.

Harry had written it for him, there is no doubt. It’s the thought that he’d written it in Niall’s perspective that gets to him, barely been two weeks since they’ve. Since then. It’s gorgeous, striking and the words curl around his heart, holds it tightly and he’d been trying so hard to not think about that night. The thoughts crash onto him like a freight.

He makes a gesture to Nick, hoping he’ll understand it, and he leaves the booth as quietly as he can, shakes off concerned questions from the managers and producers and he goes to makeshift lounge the DJs had set up a few years ago in the unused booth. He’s shaking too much, can’t quite stay still, and he leans against the wall next to the door, and he breathes and cries and it’s almost like Harry’s breaking his heart, all over again.

“Bagsy’s given us a twenty minute song run,” the door’s opening, in comes Nick. He’s been so patient, and it makes Niall thankful and ashamed that he’d even had to be, all at once. “So. Twenty minutes to cry, rant, have a cuppa. What do you need?”

Niall tries to get the last of his tears out, sheepishly accepts the tissue he's offered. Hiccups as he gets his breathing back in order, and sighs. “Harry said he wasn't sure if he wanted to get married, now or ever. He'd been so stressed out and he missed a lunch we were supposed to have with our parents and he just. He blanked on me, got drunk the night before to drown his sorrows of being tied down, and I called him out on all of it. Then he said that. Then I left.”

“Niall,” Nick murmurs, pulling him into a hug. “Shit. Have you talked to him since then?”

“I haven't,” he says. “I mean, he's been calling and trying to talk to me, I've replied to his texts and whatever, but that song’s the first time I've heard his voice in a while.”

Nick stays quiet for a moment, then he says, “So. ‘Harry was a twat’ actually really did suffice.”

Niall lets out a small, surprised chuckle at that, sniffing and holding Nick back. “I don't know. I just wish he could have talked to me. That's all I wanted. I mean, I wanted to get married, but I asked him. I told him to talk to me so we could work it out together, and not. I don't know. End up like this.”

“Nialler, you can't avoid the problem for too long,” he tells him, embracing him tighter. “He's still your boy, you know? He's still your fiancé - he is, right?”

“I'm not sure,” he says. “I'd hope so, I still want to marry him. But. I'm not sure, I don't know.”

“A lot of ‘I don't know’s’ with the two of you,” he says, “Maybe you should try to find some answers, hmm?”

“Yeah, I know,” he murmurs, and Nick's started to pet his hair a bit, a bit like the way Niall's seen him do to Pig. He's a twat, but Niall appreciates him a lot. “Sorry I've been so weepy lately.”

“Hey, I'd be weepy too had my fiancé been such a twat.”

Niall miles despite himself, and he hugs Nick back, and hopes for all the best.

.

“Oh, Harry,” Eleanor greets him at the door, and Harry is immediately embarrassed and ashamed when he sees that she's already in her nightie, robe covering her body. He doesn't want to take up any of their time if it means disturbing them. “Hi, haven't heard from you or Ni in the past few days.”

“Yeah,” he says weakly, doesn't make a move to come in when she steps aside to give him room to cross the threshold. “I. I'm sorry, you're obviously about to go to bed, I'll just, um, go-”

“No, come on,” she says, pulling him in and closing my the door behind them. “Lou’s just going no over some case notes for a hearing.”

_“Shit,_ then I really shouldn't be wasting your time,” Harry tries to leave, but El stops him.

“Get in here, you twat,” Louis shouts for good measure from the reading room, “What the fuck’s been going on with the two of you? We've been listening, he's not acting normal, always sounds tired. What's with that bloody ballad? What happened? Grimshaw’s been quiet too, every time I try to ask.”

Harry freezes, and El pulls him in, hangs up his coat and prods him until he moves, until he's walking into Louis with files and documents all over his desk, highlighters strewn about and he's got his glasses on. He peers at Harry, tipping his head to the chair by the table next to the desk, and Harry sits slowly. Feels like he's about to get interrogated, which he knows Lou will do. He's slightly afraid, because Louis is a fucking lawyer, and he's always frankly blunt when he needs to be. Which, in every honesty, is why he's come here in the first place. Get it from Lou’s perspective.

“So, what happened?” Louis is saying, speaks as he turns back to his readings and highlights a paragraph.

Eleanor's just come back with a pot of tea, sets it on the table and takes the seat opposite him. He's not very thirsty, though his mouth feels dry.

“I fucked up,” he admits, the first time verbally since Niall had gone. His chest feels like it's about to implode.

“Well, I worked that part out, not that hard,” Louis says, and El looks at him reproachfully from where she's sat. “But in what way did you fuck up, is our question here, Haz.”

He looks up from the documents then, looks at Harry and waits for his answer. It's all Harry can do to give it to him, his voice shaking and his eyes stinging.

“You know how I am, how I take shit to heart and I just. Sometimes, I just say stuff that I don't mean, and-”

“What did you say to him?” she’s asking, looking at him intently. “Did you - did any of this have anything to do with that girl? What she told you?”

“El, fuck, I know that what she said didn't matter, what Ryan and his fucking god complex doesn't matter, but I let it get to me,” he admits, cries as he speaks. His breath hitches, and he says, “I didn't mean it. I didn't. I love him.”

“What didn't you mean, Harry?” Lou asks him, his voice calm and maybe a little tired, but he waits.

“I. I panicked. I told him I didn't know if I wanted to get married. I made him feel like shit,” he says through his great heaving breaths and sniffs. “I said that I didn't know what I wanted with him.”

“Ah, god,” Louis mutters, sighs as he removes his glasses and runs a hand through his hair. Harry knows he does so when he's frustrated. Eleanor is more subtle, though. Reaches over to hold his hand placatingly, but her face is sad, though not necessarily for him.

“Shit, I was such a shit,” he says, wiping frantically at his face. “I didn't mean it.”

“I told you not to listen,” she says, “I told you, love.”

“I know, El, I know,” Harry breathes, somehow crying even more when she reaches over with the sleeve of her robe to wipe at his face. “He told me to talk to him, early on. If I was overwhelmed and if ever I wasn't ready.”

“And you didn't,” Louis works out for himself, capping his highlighter and facing towards Harry, waits for his answer.

“It's not as simple as that. I know that's a shit excuse but I promise, I never thought I had to,” Harry says. “I know what I want. I just want to be with him, and I thought being married would be a good thing for us. It's amazing and it just. It became this big thing and it got too much for me so I couldn't cope.”

“Then why didn't you talk to him?” he asks, a slight frown on his face, but otherwise, he's patient.

“I. I don't know,” he says, hates how much he's said that the past few weeks. “I felt. I felt like it would disappoint him, if I told him I wasn't ready, or if I felt overwhelmed by everything. He'd been so patient and I love him. I thought I could do it, do the music and be married and everything, but I ended up breaking down, anyway.”

“Niall would have understood,” she says, “he loves you. He'll always listen to you.”

“I know, and I should have known,” he sighs. Breathes and breathes so he stops crying. “I just want to talk to him again, but he won't take my calls, or-”

“And what will you tell him then, Haz?” Louis is asking him then, and his voice is quiet but firm. “What exactly would you say to him? That you're sorry? That you're okay with getting married again? That you'll be better? What do you think you're going to do?”

Harry goes silent at his questions, and this is Louis in lawyer mode. Thinking of possible outcomes, possible situations and getting his bases covered. Knows he's trying to help, but it makes him feel slightly choked. Like he's suffocated with the possibilities and it overwhelms him in every way, makes him shut down.

“You can't go talking to him without knowing exactly what you want to tell him,” Louis says. “I know that you might want to apologize and do whatever it takes for you to get back in his good graces, but it's not as easy as that, Harry. You have to think about what this will all entail, what you're willing to do and how you want to move forward. I don't know if you were expecting me to give you some sort of solution to this, but you're going to have to do this one on your own.”

“It might not be what you wanted to hear, love, but this is between you and him,” El tells him then, patting his hand. “We don't know your relationship as well as you do. This is all on you, Harry.”

“I mean, no pressure, or anything like that,” Lou says loudly,  reaching over to makes himself a cup of tea then goes back to his files. “If you break that boy’s heart, we've got a heartbroken Heartbreak Hero, and that can't be too good for the BBC-”

“Oh, Louis, stop being such a twat,” Eleanor scuffs the back of his head, making him choke on his tea.

Harry stands then, goes over to them and sprawls over Louis’s lap, making him squawk and try to shove him off, but stops when Harry sniffs, telltale signs of the beginnings of a breakdown. He sighs, then holds him back, pulling El in on it.

.

When Harry meets Zayn, officially, it's completely a coincidence.

Julian had John had told him to come along for one of the label’s parties, and despite not really wanting to go, they'd persuaded him, and forced him into one of those awful Gucci suits that he loves without shame, flower tied around his collar in place of a tie. He'd been introduced to people he's met before, and it's not so much a party as it is a fancy dinner with plenty of alcohol, the pretentious kind, to keep the diners company. Harry tries to be social, talks and engages in conversations with people if they come up to him, but otherwise, he really just wants to be not there.

So, as he's sat at his table with Julian, who's off his face and slumped in his seat, he sighs, looks forlornly at his empty champagne flute. Pats his head as he stands, goes to the refreshments table to get a mimosa, and it's there that he sees him.

His hair’s mostly black now, last he'd seen it was pink frosted tips, and he's thin, almost gaunt, but he wears his clothes with a smooth swagger and his face. His face is really nice, angled and sharp and really very beautiful.

Zayn recognizes him first, his eyes widening slightly, and they stand there awkwardly for a moment just staring at each other. Then, he clears his throat, stretches a hand out towards Harry, says, “I'm Zayn, mate. Nice to meet you, finally.”

“I'm Harry, good to meet you,” he says stiffly, because he's not quite sure what the protocol is, how to treat your fiancé's ex who had broken said fiancé's heart almost beyond repair. As much as Niall had healed in the last five years, there is a reason why he chose to avoid Zayn, and by extension, Harry had chosen wholeheartedly not to mention or try to see him, as well. “Didn’t know you were transferring to XL-”

“Oh, I’m not,” he says with a bit of a chuckle, “I’m here on a mate’s request. Still with RCA, very happy with them.”

“Oh, I didn’t mean to-”

“No, it’s alright, mate, it’s fine. Can't quite believe this is the first time I'm meeting you,” he says, and his voice is much softer than Harry had anticipated, not what he'd expect what with the way his voice seems to take you to another place, in his music. It's accented heavily, and he speaks softly, just starkly different from what Harry had thought. “I feel like we should have met, a long time ago.”

“Maybe,” Harry says, and he sees where he's coming from. Ships passing in the night, or something to that effect, but. He'd never really felt the need, desire, to meet Zayn. Nothing against him, but he was part of another life, and that life didn't really need to be visited again. “Big fan of the new album, mate.”

“Oh, thank you,” he says, smile wide. “I'm real chuffed with it, quite pleased with the music, so. Thanks. Means a lot. Heard some of your songs, they’re really sick. Congrats on it.”

“Oh, wow, thank you,” he says, not expecting the compliment. Quite weird, to be making small talk with Niall’s ex-boyfriend.

“You almost done with the record?” he asks then, and Harry catches Julian looking at him blearily from the table. He gives him a little wave, and turns back to Zayn.

“Almost, yeah. Been back and forth, recently, but I think it’ll be done soon.”

“That’s good,” he says. “I remember the first record I put out. Was bricking it, trying to make it sound like me and being true to who I was, making sure it wasn’t shit.”

“Yeah, know the feeling,” he remarks, and it’s making him uneasy. He knows that by the time that had been happening, Zayn and Niall were at their strongest. He wonders, how that must have affected their relationship.

Zayn must be able to distinguish the expression, because he clears his throat a little, and he mirrors the look on his own face. Asks, “How are the both of you? Heard you’re engaged, that's amazing news.”

“Oh, yeah, thank you,” he says, swallows his nervousness, his sadness. “We’re very happy. Can’t - I can’t wait, to be married to him.”

“He’s the best, I’m happy for you both,” Zayn says, his smile looking very genuine, quiet on his face.

“Thank you,” Harry says, not sure of what else to say. “I, uh, I heard your wife was having another baby. Congratulations.”

“Yeah, thank you,” he says, smile even warmer on his face, and it looks almost foreign on his face. Harry hadn’t even known that he could possibly even look like that. “We both come from simple families, love our siblings. Wanted Ammara to know that kind of feeling, we always knew we wanted more kids, so we’re very happy.”

Harry gives him a soft smile, doesn’t know what else to do, but Zayn seems happy enough talking about his family. Seems like their conversation is at its end, in any case, when he says, “I’d love to work with you one day, Harry.”

He’s a bit shocked at the words, but he tries to recover, says, “Uh, yeah. That would - that would be great. One day.”

Zayn gives him this wry sort of grin, a bit of a laugh, then he says, “I meant that, didn’t just say that to be civil, or anything.”

“Of course.”

“Niall’s very lucky, to have you,” he says, and it seems like they’ve been left alone in the massive hall, nothing seems to register in Harry’s ears other than Zayn’s words. “And, no offense meant to you, mate, but you’re even luckier, to have him.”

“I know. Absolutely.”

“So, take care of each other,” he says, tips his glass of scotch at him in goodbye. “Really good to meet you.”

“You as well,” he shakes his hand again, before Zayn walks off, and then Harry’s breathing out, as if he’d held it the entire time they’d been talking.

He gets his mimosa, makes the bartender add an extra shot of Grand Marnier, and when he gets back to the table, Julian’s half-asleep, half staring him down, and John’s off. He downs his drink, feeling unease and anxiety crawl up his skin, and most of all, the tightness of his chest, the way his heart doesn’t quite feel right. Not since he and Niall had fought. It’s all the more apparent.

.

Niall sighs internally when Nick hits play on ‘Hey Angel’ right before the break, and he thuds his head on the glass  window separating the booth and the control room.

“Sorry, Niall, the song needed to be on the playlist today,” Bagsy tells him with a frown. “Label was asking why we weren't playing it as much.”

“No, it's alright,” he mutters, just as Nick’s exited the booth and greets him with something like a hug. He more of flops over Niall's hunched form, but it doesn't matter.

“You should talk to him,” he says, takes the tea Bagsy’s offered. His hair is on its way to becoming blonde, and it reminds Niall that he has to get a trim soon. It'll be the first time he'll have his natural hair color completely, in what he thinks is a decade. It's scary, when he thinks about it, but there are worse, scarier things.

“I don't know,” he says, but Nick looks up then, twists back to stare at him, and Niall sighs, because _yes,_ there's been too many _‘I-don’t-knows’_ the past few weeks.

He has another forty minutes before he's due to come on, and he sits himself down in the DJ lounge. He opens his phone to Harry's messages, reads through their conversations. His later responses are short, concise, and doesn't reveal much about what he's been feeling. Harry texts him a few times, everyday.

At first, it had been mostly pleas for him to come home, to him, many apologies and promises to be better. Later on, it's more of questions. Always asks how he's doing, if he's feeling okay, if he needs anything to be sent over. Even later still, the occasional question that makes Niall's heart feel too big and makes his chest painful. Variations of: _“Do you still want to get married? I understand if you don't, but. I really, really do.”_

Always, without fail, Harry ends every message with _“I love you.”_

So does he, but. He doesn't reply very often. For every fifteen texts, he thinks, he sends one short reply. He knows Harry's hurt as well, knows that Harry's just scared, knows that Harry just wants to know if he's okay.

He misses him. Feels his throat close up at the thought of not seeing him, has to stave off tears at the related thought that maybe. Maybe they won't end up together. He doesn't want that.

So. He calls him. It's early, but he knows he'll be awake. True enough, he answers in the fourth ring, sounding breathless and maybe disbelieving. _“Niall, love. Niall.”_

“Hi, Baby Groot,” he says, and the affection is very clear in his tone. Cannot help for the way his voice goes soft, tender and aching for him. For things to be okay. “How are you?”

_“Niall,”_ Harry breathes, and Niall can hear the rustle of blankets on the other side. Hears Harry grunt a little, knows his trying to sort out his back in the pause between his words. He instantly knows he's been sleeping on the couch. _“I'm. I'm okay. I miss you. Fuck, I love you so much.”_

“I love you,” he says, means it. “I love you, you idiot. I miss you.”

_“I'm sorry,”_ Harry tells him, and his voice aches with it. _“Niall. I'm sorry. I promise you, I didn't mean it.”_

“You still said it,” he says, and he can't keep the hurt hidden. “You still said all that, Harry. You can't just take it back.”

_“I know, I'm sorry,”_ he says, and Niall can hear his sorrow.

They don't say anything for awhile, but neither of them hang up. Niall listens to Harry try to get into a comfortable position on their couch. Knows Harry can hear him do the same on the lousy couch in the lounge, and it's not uncomfortable, really.

_“Is Nick being nice to you?”_ he asks, _“Not being a git, is he?”_

“No, he's not, he's fine,” he answers, and Harry goes quiet again immediately.

_“When are you coming home?”_ he asks him then, softer than before and Niall can hear his heart through his words.

“I don't know, love,” he answers truthfully, doesn't say _‘When I don't feel like my heart is being ripped out when I look at you, maybe then,’_ and it's quiet again for several moments.

“How are things? With your record?” he asks then, when it becomes too much for him.

_“Things are okay,”_ Harry tells him, and he sounds slightly cautious, as if he didn't know how to tread. _“I think I might be done. Almost.”_

“That's good.”

_“Did. Did you hear the new song?”_ Harry asks him nervously, almost shyly, and Niall really does miss him.

“I did,” he says quietly. Just for him. “I heard it. It was beautiful.”

_“I wrote it for you.”_

“I know. Thank you, love,” he says, meaning every word. He misses him immensely. “I'm proud of you.”

_“I miss you so much,”_ he says again, like he can't say it enough. He probably can't. _“I miss you all the time. I can't work, can't eat, can't sleep. I miss you. I'm sorry.”_

“I'm sorry too,” he says. “I know this is hard on you. But. We both need the time away from each other.”

_“Think we've had enough time apart.”_

“Don't think we've had enough,” he says sadly. “Been together almost five years, and we still can't be a hundred percent sure on what we want.”

_“I am sure.”_

“I really don't think you are,” he says honestly, though he knows it might hurt Harry. Doesn't want to, but he can't lie, and he doesn't want him to lie either.

He can hear sniffing on the other end, and he sucks in a breath. He hates it, the moment before Harry begins to cry. Wants him to not break down, but he's not there to stop it like he usually is. He's not there.

“What did you do yesterday, Haz?” he tries to move the conversation along, tries to get Harry's mind off of him.

_“I - not much,”_ he answers between sniffs. _“Dos some work in the studio. Then I went to a dinner XL hosted. Julian and John made me go.”_

“That's good, right?” he says, “Networking, connecting. You're going to be one of their top artists, real soon.”

Harry is quiet in the other end for a minute, and Niall can't hear anything. Many different scenarios run through his mind, but he tries not to pay attention to any of them. Waits for Harry, stays patient.

_“Zayn was there,”_ is the last thing he'd expected to come out of his mouth, and he freezes. Seems like all the feeling in his fingers is gone, and the words ring in his head. _“He. He introduced himself to me. We talked, for a bit.”_

Niall doesn't say anything still, doesn't know what he can possibly say in any case. He hadn't spoken to Zayn in years. Hadn't even really thought of him, and he's fine. He really is, but the thought of him still feels like betrayal, that's never gone. He feels it now, as Harry tells him about their encounter.

_“He said he was really happy for us,”_ he says, and Niall snaps out of it. Feels his blood boil, feels like things have just gotten worse.

“Yeah? Bet he was nice to you,” he says, bitter edge to his voice, and Harry stops talking.

_“Niall. We just talked,”_ he speaks several moments later, tone soft and careful. _“He was just being polite. He spoke really highly of you.”_

“Trying to make up for knocking someone up while we were together, most probably,” he says, and the conversation’s taken a turn for the worse.

_“Niall, please. This isn't fair.”_

“I bet you, he said he'd like to work with you,” he says, and the way Harry doesn't reply to that gives him away. “Yeah, I'd thought so-”

_“It's not like I was going to agree, Ni,”_ he says urgently, tries to make him understand. _“I wouldn't, Niall. Not after what he did to you.”_

“Maybe you should.”

_“What - love, what are you talking about? Please, can we just-”_

“Maybe you should go talk to Kendall too, while you're at it,” he says angrily, and the pause is long, after that.

_“Niall, what the hell,”_ Harry says, and he sounds hurt and angry and tired. _“I'm trying to fix this. I'm trying to make it up to you.”_

“Doing a real great job of that, yeah.”

_“Ni, please,”_ Harry says, _“I'm trying. Why can't you just trust me?”_

“I can't, because you broke every rule and made me feel like a fucking fool,” he says, just short of shouting, and he hangs up. Ignores every call and message he receives after that, turns his phone off eventually.

The show isn't particularly good today. He's moody, though he tries not to let it show. His answers and replies are short and straight to the point, full of snark and bite and resembles much closer to what he used to say back when the segment first started. It's not lost on the listeners, who flood him with questions and screams in all caps concerning Harry, and they  trend _‘#NarryFOREVER’_ and _‘#HereForYouNiall’_ and many other things similar.

He completely disregards the _‘#SunshineHotline’_ tag on Twitter. Refuses to take calls related to it.

Nick has to intervene when he's close to yelling at a caller, coincidentally going through a dilemma similar to his. Current lover talks to ex, so he has a lot to say.

“Yes, yes! So much passion,” Grimmy says with a laugh, but he shoots a sharp look in Niall's direction as he tries to salvage the situation. Not much he can do, not when Niall had said in a very loud volume, _“People are so bleeding fickle, and it's the people you love most who end up hurting you the most-”_ and, marginally worse, _“They can go talk as much as they want, see if you talk to either of them after, twats, the whole lot of them, a lot of twats-”_

Niall's still heated, his cheeks flushed and he breathes deeply, and his mic is shut off for him, and he groans loudly and thuds his forehead on the table.

“Okay, maybe I should never give you advice ever again, if this is what getting you to talk to Harry gets me,” Nick says, as soon as he plays another song for a break. He comes closer, only to squawk and try to slap Niall's hands away when he goes to twist his nipple.

.

_“Ay, this is a mess,”_ Liam's muttering on the phone, and Niall snorts, rubbing Pig’s belly as she nuzzles her nose into his palm. He's out in the back, Nick's gone to bed at a miraculously early hour for once, and Liam and Sophia are on speaker.

_“Paddy was very concerned,”_ she adds, _“He was so sad. Should've seen him, Niall.”_

“Tell Harry to stop being such a twat and make him do something, then,” he tells them, humming as Pig goes to take a turn about the yard, running back to him with yelps for more belly rubs. “If you don't want to see your bodyguard so cut up.”

_“Well, you should stop being so stroppy,”_ she says. _“Ay, don't give me that look, Ni, I know you're doing it.”_

“I’ll stop being stroppy when things aren’t so shit anymore,” he says, scratching behind Pig’s ears. “Ah, fuck. I overreacted.”

_“No shit,”_ she mutters, sighs. _“The two of you are that one couple, you know? Barely have any big fights, but when you do, it’s like a big black hole. Suck everyone into it.”_

“Not like I intended for all this to happen, Soph,” he says. “Just wanted to get married, fuck me, you know? Didn’t know we’d cock it up.”

_“Not cocked up completely,”_ Liam says optimistically, as always. _“He still wears his ring, right? At least the people on Twitter say so, when they see him go around-”_

“Ah, the ever truthful internet,” he says, “I’ll talk to him, when my head’s cooled. Just. I never expected he and Zayn to, you know.”

_“They just talked, said so yourself, didn’t you?”_

“It’s still Zayn,” he says, lets Pig scramble up his lap and lick across his face. “I’ve moved on, doesn’t stop it from being painful. Gets to be so fucking happy with another baby along the way while I’m here yelling about my fiancé.”

_“Ay, now you’re being bitter_ and _unfair, well on your way to proper twatdom,”_ Sophia tsks at him, and he feels reprimanded, which, to be fair, is what’s happening. _“No need to be pissed at your ex and his family just because Harry’s an idiot, but you can’t just ignore him forever.”_

“I know that,” he says, “But I’m still mad. I’m really fucking hurt. I know I’m being unfair too but he hurt me first.”

_“It doesn’t matter who went first or whatever. Just be the one to fix it, or at least help him. You both have got to try.”_

_“Maybe, you shouldn’t avoid him, especially not in public,”_ Liam adds. _“You’ve got the BBC Music Awards soon, yeah? He’s getting that award, and he’s performing too. Maybe. Ceasefire?”_

“Arghhh,” he groans, and Pig squirms in his lap. “Fuck. I forgot about that.”

_“He’s going to be nervous, Niall. He’s going to need you,”_ he goes on. _“I know you might not want to, but maybe, for a bit, pretend this all didn’t happen? Just for that night, then you can go back to being shits separately.”_

_“Ah, Liam, you’re awful at this,”_ she takes over, sighing. _“That night's going to be hard.”_

“No shit,” he mutters, letting Pig lick his face as he coos.

_“Niall, don’t be a shit. I’ll just say this. Try not to let your problems be known. It’ll be difficult, but it’ll be even more difficult if you’ve got strangers and whoever breathing down both of your necks asking what happened.”_ _  
_

“Arghhh,” he groans again, and Pig jumps down from his lap, runs inside. Must sense that the conversation is more or less over.

.

They decide mutually, for the most part, that they should go to the show together. Arrive together, leave together, do the carpet together. There'd be too many questions if they don't.

So Niall goes to pick him up at the flat, tells the driver he won't be long, waves to Sam, the doorman, who greets him with _“Haven't seen you here in a while, Nialler!”_ He just smiles back, and punches the ‘P’ in the lift.

“Oh, Niall,” Stephanie’s saying, a little surprised to see him as she's leaving the flat with the team moving on ahead of her. They smile and nod at him, and he does so in turn. “Been some time. You look good.”

“Thanks, love,” he says, smooths out his suit. It's nicer than his usual, a deep burgundy number with a barely there checkered pattern. He finally got that trim, his dark-again hair thick and swept off to the side, and black framed glasses perched on his nose. Still nothing terribly fancy. “I'm guessing you brought Gucci for him?”

“For his performance, too,” she replies with a grin. “If you'll excuse me, we need to go ahead to the venue, prep the dressing room.”

“Yeah, alright,” he comes forward to kiss her cheek briefly in goodbye, “See you then.”

She leaves, and he goes in, calls out, “Haz? We need to get a move on.”

“Niall,” he comes out from their bedroom, and Niall can't help but smile when he sees what he's got on. Black silk button up, white suit with black floral pattern, bell bottom pants and glittery boots. It's ridiculous, and completely him.

Harry looks at him, and his eyes are shining with a promise of tears. He tells him quietly, “You look handsome. Like, from Wall Street.”

Niall stares at him, and he realizes how it had sounded, and he backtracks hastily, “I mean, like-”

“It's alright,” he says, waves it off. He feels strange, weird and his chest is much too tight for his body. He's never really felt this sort of unease around Harry, and it's unnerving. He doesn't know what to make of it, but the one thing he can't quite deny as he looks at his fiancé, he really cannot erase the love he has for him. “Nice suit.”

“Your hair,” he says on an exhale, makes to come forward to touch it, but he stops at the last moment, and Niall can tell he feels somewhat similar. He tilts his head down, inviting him, and after a pause, Harry steps forward, and reaches up to brush his fingers in his hair.

This doesn't go for very long. Harry steps back on his own, and Niall looks back up at him. Offers him a small smile, and says, “Okay, we need to go, car’s waiting-”

“Ni,” Harry reaches out for his arm, his hand cradling the crook of his elbow. He sounds so soft, quiet and unsure, and Niall waits for him to speak. “I’m. I’m sorry. I just want us to be us again.”

“I do too,” he says, and he means it.

“Then what can I do?” he asks him.

Niall looks up from where he’d been staring at the floor, and sees how he waits for him to speak. He sighs, removes his arm carefully from his hold, and tells him, “Not just you, love. We need to do this together, but. It’s going to have to wait until later. Tonight, though, I’m here for you.”

“Ni-”

“Baby Groot,” he says, and Harry pauses at the term of endearment. “I promise, we’ll talk later. Ceasefire, okay?”

“I - okay,” he says, nodding quietly, and they leave.

The car ride isn’t particularly eventful. They sit in the back, healthy bit of space between them and it certainly feels heavy. When they get there, they’re at an odds on how to present themselves. Niall can’t quite help but be stiff around Harry, and Harry the same.

The carpet seems to go on for forever, reporter and cameras flashing on one side, and at the end of it, another unending line of fans, screaming and waiting for the artists to come around after the press line.

Niall can tell that Harry’s nervous. Looks on at the seemingly endless stream of people waiting, and there are other artists and singers and presenters on the carpet already. Niall’s sure he’d seen Nick already working the press, and he watches Harry carefully, observes how he stares on and swallows his nervousness.

“Come on, then,” he says stiffly, tries to be present and in the moment for him, but that odd feeling is still hanging between them. He guides him with a hand on the small of his back, and they step into the carpet and smile for the cameras. His eyes are dazed soon enough, and they move on forward, not quite touching each other. They usually don’t, in any case, content enough to stand next to each other, but especially now, it feels very telling of where they are in their relationship. He hopes it doesn’t show in his face.

They make it through the carpet, and they do interviews separately along the press line. He watches Harry smile and turn on the charm for the reporters, and he has this look on his face when he talks about music, another one for when he talks about Niall, softer and maybe a little purer. He sees it, more often than not, and he’s showing off his ring and it makes Niall a little calmer, somewhat.

He himself gets questions about Heartbreak Hero, squashing rumors that he’s leaving the show to do something else, because he honestly has no idea on what he’s going to do, really, his friendship with Grimmy and Liam, how he’s feeling about tonight, when he’s presenting the Introducing Award to Harry, Harry in general. Initially, his heart pangs in a strange way at the questions concerning him, not really knowing how it’s supposed to feel, but eventually, he just lets it go, focuses on him, tonight. He says he’s proud, many times. That he’s incredibly happy, that they’re taking their time with the planning, that life is good and he cannot wait to get married. They’re not lies.

Then they go to the fans, who scream for both of them in different directions. Harry’s pulled here and there, and Niall is the same, taking selfies with too many people and signing whatever and he watches him from afar. Can’t help but be concerned, protective, as it is Harry’s first carpet as a separate entity from Niall, attending not just as his date, but as an artist now. It’s big and exciting and Niall is so proud.

Wishes that they didn’t have this awkward air between them, but he fights through that for now. He’s here for his love, and when he sees him handle it with grace and charisma, it eases the heavy feeling in his heart.

They’re seated together, naturally, with Grimmy on Niall’s other side, and they go through the performances with that same odd feeling between them. The haven’t spoken much tonight, haven’t really interacted much beyond the carpet. Niall can’t really focus on Ellie Goulding or Years & Years and whoever when Harry’s jittering next to him nervously, and eventually, right before he’s about to change into his performance outfit backstage and before he’s about to be called to present the award to him, Niall pulls him in for a quick, quick kiss to calm him a little.

It doesn’t really change much, but he doesn’t want him to be so nervous, just wants him to have fun and enjoy the moment while he has it, and Harry stares at him, shocked and blushing, and he’s whisked away to the back.

“So, you’re doing better, then?” Nick asks him, and his new blonde hair makes Niall want to roll his eyes.

“We’ll see,” he answers, doesn’t want to give him another _‘I don’t know.’_ “We’re going to talk later, but for now, I’m here for him.”

“Well, the new rug ought to be of use,” he begins to say, but Niall cuts him off with a hit to the back of his head.

It's not long until Chris is calling his name to introduce the next awardee, and he sighs, gathers his wits and walks out on to the stage, and there are many lights, many people cheering on for him. It's definitely a different environment for him, so used to his little booth that smells maybe a little weird because of the contraband food and tea he and Nick would bring in, and it tries to throw him off. He ignores it all, and looks for the teleprompter to tell him what to say.

He sees the first line, and it immediately doesn't feel quite right. He swallows, not really knowing what to do with the sea of people waiting for him to speak, Harry waiting just a little off the stage, and he sighs internally. If he's going to do this, he thinks, he'd much rather do it his way. So, he speaks spontaneously, from his heart.

“This next award is the BBC Introducing Artist of the Year,” he begins, disregarding the speech already written out for him. “And it goes to a gentleman very dear to me. I first met Harry during the earlier days of my career in radio broadcasting. He allowed for an already entertaining, unpredictable job to be made that much more colorful, and took a risk to follow what he truly wanted to do in life. This award just shows that work paying off, that leap of faith seeing fruition, that pure love for music loving him in return.”

He glances of to side stage, sees Harry watching him intently, his gaze unfaltering and fond and full of love.

“Harry is much more than what many people take him for. He's intelligent, thoughtful, knows how to make a banger of a tune. He's entirely lovely and amazing,” he says, smiling quietly when Nick starts hooting and leads the teasing cheers. “But, more than that. He doesn't take this for granted. He works and just wants the best for what he believes in, and you really can't quantify how proud I am of him. So, I am honored and excited to present the BBC Introducing Artist of the Year to Harry Styles.”

Someone's handing him a trophy of a microphone, and Harry steps out to receive it. He ignores the award Niall attempts to hand to him, instead pulls him in for a tight embrace. People are cheering and are on their feet and Harry's still not accepting the award, just holds Niall and things aren't fixed, but for now.

Niall kisses his cheek, then murmurs into his ear, “Proud of you, love.”

Harry stills for a moment, and then pulls back just to kiss him properly on the mouth. People cheer louder, but it's not important. Niall just stays in the moment, kissing him back and allowing himself to be held even tighter.

Harry cuddles him for a solid twenty seconds, surely much longer than what is necessary, by Niall doesn't have the heart to push him away. Eventually, Harry removes himself and Niall steps off to the side to let him have his moment. Harry doesn't stop looking at him right up until he has to face the crowd, gratitude and great affection in his eyes, and he speaks. He thanks his parents, his sister. Louis and El, though Niall doubts there aren't many people who know who they are anyway. Thanks his label, John and Julian, Liam and Sophia. A great number of people.

“And,” he pauses, then he looks towards where Niall stands, and he watches him go quiet. His smile goes tight, not uncomfortably, but the way it does when he’s about to cry. It’s gentle and quiet, and Niall can somewhat tell what he wants to say. It hurts, but more than that, it makes his own chest swell with affection and love.

“For you,” Harry says simply, and he smiles again, tender and quiet. Niall gives him one in turn, and it is a start, of sorts.

.

His performance went alright. He doesn't remember much of it, he figured he should have been more mindful, because it was his first performance for an awards show, but he couldn't, really. Not with everything happening with Niall and the way he'd spoken about him. It feels like it's much more than he deserves, especially now. But regardless, Niall had been there for him, and he couldn't be more grateful.

He'd been a bit off tonight, hadn't really known how to act around Niall, had no clue on what to do or what to feel. It's was a lot to take in, being there as an artist and having people actually recognize him for his work, his music. Niall had been at his side, as he'd promised, and it made it confusing, but also strangely easier to handle. He doesn't quite know where they stand, but to be there with him tonight had meant a great deal. To have him speak onstage, to be so open though it must've hurt him. He _had_ to thank him profusely, but it was as if his words had left him. They weren't _enough_ , so. He hoped that he understood, anyway. He loves him so.

They leave a bit early, either of them hadn't really felt the need to finish the show. It had been a comforting thought, that he and Niall could still converse without any words needing to be said, that they'd just known that they'd stayed long enough.

He fully expects for them to talk in the car, so when he's dropped off at their flat, Niall can go back to Nick’s. They don't, however, and it's unnervingly silent in the drive back. They sit a seat apart, Niall stares out of his window and Harry wants, desperately, to reach out between them, but whenever he tries, something tells him not to, that Niall might not want to touch him or that. Maybe, he'd lost that right. It frustrates him greatly, and he forces his hands on his lap, breathes deep to stop himself from tearing up, sensitive as his heart is to everything.

It's not of much use, though. Niall turns his head to look at him, and it's as if he just knows. He lays his palm flat out in the seat between them, waits for him to take it silently, and it takes Harry everything to stop himself from letting out a sob and tackling him with a cuddle. He slides his hand into his, and squeezes. Dares to sit a bit closer, and bravely leaves a kiss on his cheek. It comforts him when Niall leans into the touch, but he doesn't say much else, or do much else. He does run his thumb against the metal of the ring on his fourth finger a few times, but other than that.

They get back to their flat, and Harry desperately tries not to to overthink that Niall had thanked and tipped the driver, told him that they were done for the day. So he's not planning to leave, at least not yet, but he doesn't allow himself to think beyond that. Niall holds his hand still as they walk into the lobby, and Sam greets them with his usual smile, remarking that he _“hadn’t seen the two of you walk in together like this in a while!”_ Harry smiles unsurely, and he doesn’t think Niall looks over at all. Just tightens his grip on his hand, and they go up the lift to the penthouse. It’s unfamiliar and strange and heavy, but it feels much better than earlier tonight, and that must mean something.

“Here, then,” Niall’s saying softly, making his way to their living room and clearing the top shelf in the display. Sets the award in the middle, “first of many.”

“Ni,” he murmurs, and his heart’s too full.

“Okay,” he says, turns to look at him. “Now. We can talk now.”

“Niall,” he says his name again, “I’m-”

“You’re sorry,” he completes it for him. “I’m sorry too, then. I shouldn’t have overreacted about Zayn. I just, I missed you but I was mad and I took it out on you for the most stupid shite. I should have just talked to you.”

“And I should have done the same, earlier on,” he says, and it’s much calmer, than the last they’d talked. He doesn’t know if he’s to attribute it to the relatively late hour, or. He just wants him back here. Wants things to be okay again.

“Harry,” he starts, “I’ll ask you again, and I want an answer. The truth, okay?”

He nods, and Niall comes closer, close enough that they stand toe to toe. Harry wants to hold him.

“What do you want?” Niall asks him directly, waits for him.

“I,” he begins, but he can’t finish the thought. He thinks of the best way to say it, and he tells him softly, “I just want you, Niall.”

“But do you want to marry me?” he asks patiently, and it sounds as if he’s expecting the worst.

Harry pauses before he answers, and his heart won't stop making his chest ache. He knows he's been silent for too long, but he answers anyway, “I do. I want to be married to you, one day. But. I'm not sure. I'm not sure if I want it to be _now._ It just. It seems so soon. I don’t know.”

Niall nods, showing he understands, but he doesn’t make a show to hide that he’s devastated. Harry’s heart jumps to his throat, tries to cup his cheek, but Niall backs away slightly, wiping under his eyes with his knuckles. He straightens out his glasses, clears his throat, says, “I understand.”

“Love-”

“I’ll sleep on the couch,” he says, turning away, but Harry latches on to him before he can leave. Pulls him close and buries his face in his neck, breathes him in.

“No, please,” he murmurs, “stay with me.”

“Harry.”

“Niall,” he pleads softly. “Please? Please, I know I fucked up but. Please stay. Please. Don't leave.”

Niall freezes at his choice of words, and he softens his tone, relaxes under his touch. “I wouldn’t, Baby Groot.”

Harry takes a deep, shuddering breath at his reply, pulls him in even closer and they hold each other for several moments, just standing there in the middle of their living room with the awful rug on the floor and a shelf with a lone trophy, awaiting others.

They separate eventually, only for Harry to draw him to their room. He hasn’t really been in here other than to get clothes and shit in the past few weeks, and he feels like he’s about to jump out of his skin, but also. He feels like everything’s settling, even just a bit. It’s quiet and he knows he doesn’t need much more than that.

He leans forward and brushes his lips softly against Niall’s. Not quite a kiss, just a light graze, asking for more, and Niall seems to take a moment before he tilts his head slightly to kiss him properly.

It goes on like this for a minute or so, kissing and not much else, but it doesn’t feel like it’s not enough. He and Niall have never really been apart for long before, at least not as long as a couple of weeks, and the fact that this is the first time he’s been kissed in that long. Makes him realize how big a part of Niall had become of his life. He hopes he’s had somewhat of a similar impact on his.

He pulls back briefly, removes Niall’s glasses carefully, and they’re at it again, a little harder, a bit more intent. He holds on to his neck, then gripping at his shoulders. Niall squeezes his waist, draws him in.

He asks softly if he can take off his clothes, and permission is given with a silent nod. He tries to be gentle with it, when he removes their jackets and unbuckles his belt. When he undoes the buttons slowly on his shirt. Knows that any other time, he’d be teased for treating everything like a romance novel, but it seems apt, for this moment.

It’s not long before they’re on the bed, laying on their sides and naked and just kissing each other quietly. Not long before he asks if he wanted more, with Niall nodding still after a moment of consideration.

It’s not that they don’t do this. They do, often, he likes to give, as much as he does receive, and Niall is the same. They’re filthy, and they admit to that, but they’re also very gentle, when they want to be. But it feels strangely, final. Heavy, and when he opens Niall up with slick fingers and his chest goes tight with the view. Niall closes his eyes, grips his arms as he fingers him, breathing and letting out these quiet moans that he wants to swallow into his own mouth. Certainly doesn’t help when he clenches around his fingers, hips jolting underneath him when he just angles it so.

He lubes himself up, and eyes himself push into his body slowly, but the pull of watching Niall is stronger. He looks at his face, and his eyes are open now. They don’t falter as he bottoms out, bright blue staring right into his own, and Harry feels like his heart is too big, then. He leans over him properly, lets him adjust around his cock, and they lie there in the quiet for a moment. Their gaze doesn’t break, and Niall pushes back on him when he’s done waiting.

Harry holds his thighs, helps him wrap his legs around him, and he fucks him in a solid, steady pace. Niall pulls his face down, kisses him again, and he wants this to last. He focuses on him, watches him as he throws his head back when he fucks in just right, moaning and sighing.

Niall feels incredible around him, tight and perfect and he loves it, just like this. Kisses him and keeps his head down as he goes a bit harder, pounds in and makes it as good as he can.

“Been awhile, since it was like this,” Niall tells him quietly after too long a silence, his voice a little rough from lack of use, going a bit high at the end when Harry drives in a bit harder. “Almost forgot how good you feel.”

“That’s a shame,” he whispers against his lips. He feels a bit like crying. Ridiculous, but. “We shouldn’t let that happen.”

“No, we shouldn’t,” he says back, and he offers him another kiss, which he gratefully accepts. Fucks in with languid rolls of his hips, then harder shoves into his arse, and Niall just takes it all perfectly.

They fuck for a while. Much longer than Harry thought he could last, but eventually, he can’t quite hold back anymore. Starts fucking in and in and pushes his cock into him harder and faster. Niall kisses him as he comes, keeps him close as he wrings it out in him.

Harry keeps on going, doesn’t quite mind the sensitivity all over as he drives into him, and he comes soon enough. Moans into the still air and spills over their stomachs and Harry latches on to his pulse point. Sucks on it and then he kisses him when he starts whimpering at the sensation. Accepts every noise and they hold each other desperately close. He wants to melt into him, stupid as it sounds, but it’s what he’s feeling.

He doesn’t really pull out all the way, and he knows he should, but he doesn’t want to, not yet, and Niall hasn’t quite pushed him away either, so he goes to lay them on their sides again, still inside, still close. They’re still dirty and sweaty and gross, but he doesn’t want to move.

It’s odd. They’re never really without anything to say, even if it’s just a little comment or tease after a shag, but they stay quiet, this time. Niall finds his hand, stares at the ring he’d given him. Harry wears it with pride, though he doesn’t quite know where they stand, now. It’s never felt heavy, or strange, or foreign on his body, even as they weren’t talking those few weeks. Never felt wrong, and it especially doesn’t feel that way now, when Niall touches it gently, before he moves his fingers softly to graze his own, the tips of their fingers just touching so.

Harry actually does tear up, then. Holds on to his hand properly and brings it up to his lips, skimming over his knuckles. Niall kisses his hair, and the affections rolls off of him in waves, and Harry revels in it.

He cries and whimpers, and doesn’t feel the least bit stupid or ashamed. Can’t, when Niall gives him the most tender smile and kisses over his eyelids to comfort him, cuddling him like he always would.

They should talk more, they should discuss this and try to see where they are. But, right now, he knows that no matter what, it won’t feel like this again. So he just takes it in.

.

When he wakes up at half five next morning, Niall’s already gone. He lies there blankly, barely registers that his front’s been cleaned and the lube stashed away, staring at the empty bed next to him, and he tries not to let his emotions make him overthink. He’s usually awake at this time anyway, wakes up with Niall for when he has to get ready for work, goes back to sleep when he leaves for a few hours before he rises again to listen to the show, but. The sheets aren’t very warm, and he knows he’d left long before his usual alarm time.

He gives up, doesn’t quite care anymore, that he’s being ridiculous and dramatic, when he cries into his pillow. He misses him, loves him. Wants to be with him. Doesn’t know why they’re making this so hard for themselves, and he cries until he falls asleep, doesn’t end up being awake for the segment.

.

_“Hero? Are you and Magpie okay?”_

He’d finally taken a call patched through for Sunshine Hotline, the first in weeks, and of course, this is the question he first receives. It doesn’t surprise him in the slightest, not with the way he’d been so passive aggressive or stony and vague with the callers, especially if their situation hit close to home.

He'd hoped, when they did the red carpet and attended the show together, when he'd presented Harry with his award, it would have answered any questions people might have had. But people are much smarter than what he usually gives them credit for, so. He's not very surprised, really.

“What makes you ask that, love?” he asks, and Nick watches him from the other side of the table.

_“You two’ve been kind of different. I don’t know. Just something I noticed, and it could be nothing, and it’s not really any of my business, but. You know, a lot of people want the both of you to be happy. So. I was just wondering.”_

He stays quiet for a bit, considering the words, for long enough that Nick is inspired enough to play the cricket noise sound clip, and he snorts, flips the bird at him. It gets him to talk again, though, “Yeah, sorry. Haz and I. We’re okay.”

_“Yeah? You sound unsure.”_

“Woah, the Heroes are getting brave with you, calling you out,” Grimmy says, jabs at the soundboard and the Ashleys from Recess screech _‘SCANDALOUS!’_ at him.

He flips him off again, chucking. Then, he lets the question sink in, and. She’s not really wrong, but still. He smiles sadly, says, “We’re getting there. Baby Groot and I, we’ve just got some things to figure out. But we’ll be okay.”

_“Baby Groot?”_

“None of your business,” he teases, waving off the curiosity as well as Nick’s ridiculous faces and suggestive pantomiming. He knows no shit. “Just. I love that idiot. That can never be a lie, so. There. Hope that’s good enough to appease you.”

.

“You didn’t use the rug?” Nick’s pouting at him, and Niall snorts into his tea. They’re in the lounge, show’s ended, and Niall’s been telling him what happened. Not detailed, but Nick’s good at reading between the lines. “What a waste.”

“So you’d prefer for them to be ruined via shagging?” he mutters, smacking him upside the head. “Twat.”

“Merely a concerned third party,” Nick says, unaffected, and he gulps down the rest of his tea. Continues in that same tone of voice, nonchalant, “Oh, yes, thought I’d mention, I’m leaving the show within the next year.”

Niall chokes on his drink, and he stares at him with wide eyes. “Nick.”

“Oh, don't be like that,” he chuckles, waving his hand up and down and his eyes are crinkled in genuine glee. “It's not a sudden decision, or anything. I've been working it out with Bagsy and the producers and the managers for the past year or so.”

“You didn't tell me,” Niall says quietly, and Nick's the one to smack him upside the head, this time.

“I didn't tell anyone, don't take it personally,” he says, snorting. “I've been doing this for almost eight years, mate. I think it's better I quit while I'm ahead, you know? Focus on the fashion, on Pig, god knows that dog needs more attention, been getting some hosting offers. It'll be good.”

“Nick.”

“And, you know, the show would be in good hands,” he says, shrugging. “It's not like it's set in stone yet, but I've been making suggestions. Requests, actually, more like demands. Last wish and all that.”

“Twat, you're not dying,” Niall mutters, and Nick pouts back.

“Last wish! You know what I mean,” he says, waving him off. “It's whatever. Just hinted at them that I wanted you to take over, if ever.”

Niall goes silent, freezes when the words sink in. “Nick.”

“They didn't look like they were disagreeing, so,” he says, still as relaxed as ever, and Niall's still having trouble unsticking his tongue from the roof of his mouth.

“Nick,” he says again, and then he realizes. “You're the reason they're reshuffling the schedules.”

He laughs, beaming at him and patting his cheek. Niall frowns, tells him, “You shit, I thought I was going to lose my job.”

“Oh, like they'd get rid off you, you're too popular,” he scoffs, “And they love you, as if that would happen, idiot.”

“But you're leaving,” he says quietly, and Nick just looks at him for a moment.

“It won’t be all that bad, NiNi,” he says softly. “I mean, it would be amazing, you know? Not having to get up at arse o’clock for work every morning and waking up just to listen to the last hour of the show like every other person in England does.”

“Oh, so you mean it’s not that bad, for you,” he snorts, and Nick laughs again.

“You’ll be great, Nialler,” he says, pulls him in for a hug. “No matter what you do, you’ll be great. You’ll always be my Hero.”

“Ay, you twat,” he says on a shaky breath, tightens the embrace. Doesn’t want to get his hopes up for the position, but. It would be amazing, but still. Nick leaving, a shock he certainly wasn’t expecting.

“Can I give you a bit of advice, then, Nialler?” he asks against his hair, and Niall pinches his nipple. He takes it as a yes, apparently, says, “Your boy’s a good egg.”

“Don’t make fun of him.”

“I’m not,” he laughs pulling back and patting his head. “I mean it. He tries to do right by you, he just needs a bit of help.”

“A lot of help,” he mutters.

“Hey, you know, he loves you,” he says, “Like, I don’t know about now, what you’re going to do or whatever. But I do know that you love each other. Little miracle, innit?”

Niall looks at him, and. Yes, maybe it is.

“I hope that you two will work this out,” he says. “And, you know, maybe someday down the road, you’ll be husbands. It can be now, it can be later, but it will happen. I hope you can be patient with him. It won’t take long, now. Magpie just needs the right push.”

It comforts him some, and he’s really very grateful to have met Nick, as his friend. Very grateful for the day he’d stuck his neck out for Niall and pitched the segment, and fought for him even more when they initially weren’t so convinced it would work. Feels a bit like a lifetime ago, and it’s all very bittersweet.

“Also, when it does happen,” he says, tone all light again, “Offer still stands. I’d make a great wedding priest. Well, you know, not like an actual priest, but I’ll get like registered and everything like Conan and Barney, it’ll be great-”

Niall pinches his nipple and smacks him upside the head for good measure, this time. But, he’s very grateful.

.

His mate Matt, photographer, not the pseudo-indie singer, invites him over to one of the shoots he’s doing. And he needs to get out of their flat, so he goes with it.

It's a campaign shoot, something for makeup so he's not very familiar, but he knows it must be some really big deal. When he gets to the venue, some old estate with a massive back garden where the shoot is, the crew’s huge and bustling and never not busy, and Matt’s got an army of light technicians and camera crew and various production staff flocking and flitting around him. He's taking test shots, but stops and grins at Harry when he approaches.

“Big leagues,” he says on an exhale as he looks around. “Doing well for yourself.”

“What about you? Little popstar,” he grins, snaps a shot of him before he can react, and when he looks back at what he’d taken, he looks mildly impressed. “I’m good.”

“Twat,” Harry mutters, no heat to it.

“She ready, then?” Matt’s calling out to the team, and he model comes out of the house decked out in a slim red pantsuit and her black hair all slicked back and face made up simply, red lips popping. Harry freezes, knows exactly who she is, and vaguely wishes he'd stayed home.

“Harry,” Kendall pauses as well, stops a few feet in front of him and her eyes are wide in surprise. She looks pretty, but not quite the face he'd like to see.

“Kendall,” he greets, because he was raised to be polite and well-mannered. He leans to give her a brief kiss on the cheek, and says, “You look well.”

“I, yeah. I'm doing well,” she says, smiling a bit and she gestures to him. “So have you. Congratulations on your music. Should have known you could do it.”

“Ah, well, not your fault for thinking otherwise,” he says, shrugging. “I was, um. Problematic. But it's fine, now, we're both doing rather well for ourselves. Got this campaign, that must be amazing.”

“Yeah, Estée Lauder is great, it's an incredible thing,” she says, smiles as she regards the whole elaborate setup of the shoot, and it makes Harry pause.

“Estée Lauder?” he repeats, and he can't quite stop the next words that come out of his mouth. “I don't think they're cruelty free.”

“Oh, they're not mate,” Matt says, “But don't you be blaming the model for it.”

“Wasn't - wasn't about to, sorry,” he mutters, and she laughs at him, and it's easy, relaxed, not quite as uncomfortable as he'd thought. “But. Um, yes. Congratulations, regardless. I'm very happy for you.”

“Thank you,” she smiles. “Don't think we've talked since I called in to yell at your boyfriend on the radio. I don't think I ever apologized for that. I'm sorry for being such a bitch.”

“Sorry for cheating on you with my now fiancé,” he says. “And he's sorry too. If you'd seen him after that, he felt horrible for doing that to you. It was never his intention.”

“I know that now,” she says, and her smile turns sad. “I reacted poorly, though. So, I'm sorry. I imagine it might not matter, now, but I am.”

“No, that's not-”

“And, for what it's worth,” she holds up a hand to make him stop, and she looks warmly at him, “I forgive you two, for everything that happened.”

He blinks. “Kendall?”

“He was right, you know,” she explains. “He told me that if it's not meant to be, then it's not. Well, we just weren't for one another, and it didn't take me long after everything had happened to realize that. You two, though. You are. Really.”

He blinks again, and his chest feels funny. Wasn't expecting this, and it does make him feel better about things, funnily enough.

“You're lucky to find him, especially being in the limelight. He straightened you out, and he seems to love you, the real you, not the way I ever could. I hope you're happy,” she says with no hint of irony or sarcasm, smile still on her face. “You are, yeah?”

“I - yes, I am,” he says.. It's not completely true, at the moment, but semantics. Never been so happy in his life, this love with Niall. “I'm very happy.”

“That's good,” she says, “I wish you all the world for your wedding.”

“Yeah, thank you,” he swallows, “I can't wait for it.”

She smiles again, then pats his arm, “Congratulations again. Excuse me,” she nods a bit, then she steps into set and Matt starts directing her and the assistants.

Harry watches, not quite paying attention to anything, and he thinks about what she told him. What he said, in reply, and. It occurs to him that Niall is easily the best thing in his life, that he can't quite say how much he loves him. All truths he's known forever, but now, means all that much more.

It hits him then, the thought crashing into him and making his chest go tight with realization, that he really has been such a twat, this past month.

The world he chooses to live in is messy, difficult and shady and so full of shit. But Niall isn't, is the surest thing, the best thing. And he does want to marry him. Wants to be with him, and. Fuck him for waiting, for questioning them. Never had any reason to think that way, and he just jumped the gun.

Nobody pays much attention to the burgeoning pop star having a moment of realization in the middle of the photoshoot, there's just too much to do everywhere. So Harry just slips out, texts Matt his apology for leaving, and he makes a few calls, figures out how to fix this.

.

Nick warns him to not come to work the next morning, “Oi, don’t go, not a good idea. Play hooky, I’ll cover for you.”

“What? Don’t be stupid,” he says, and Pig licks his face, completely ignoring her real owner.

Nick frowns at his pet, but he tells Niall, “Just don’t go. Call in sick, say you’ve partied in Istanbul and you’re too hungover, I’ve done that once.”

“Ay, Nick, no,” he says, and he stares up at him, confused. “Why-”  
“Zayn’s gonna stop by to do some publicity,” he says in one breath, stealing Pig away despite her yelps and bringing her up to cover his face, like a ridiculous dog shield. “Found out a week ago. I thought he’d flake like he usually does, but. Looks like he’s really coming, this time. Fuck, don’t hurt me.”

Niall stares at him, in shock and just because he’s appalled that he’d sacrifice his dog, and he takes back Pig, who whines in thanks for saving her from the uncomfortable position. “So. He’ll be coming tomorrow.”

“Yes,” he says. “You alright?”

“I - yeah, I'm okay,” he answers, and he is. “I'm alright.”

“Okay, so, I was thinking, tell them you just partied and had an orgy with Rod Stewart, that'd be sure to get you out of work-”

“Oi, Nick, fuck off, I'm going to work,” he tells him, standing up and carrying Pig along with him to the guest room, and Nick squawks after them, demanding for an explanation and his dog.

Niall figures, he can't really run away forever. From Zayn, from Harry, from his problems, whatever. They won't get solved if he just hides out in his co-worker’s place, so. First step.

He goes to work, a little more than an hour before calltime, as is usual, and when he gets to the studio, he's already in the booth, chatting with Nick about the record on the air. He's just as handsome as Niall remembers, maybe a little tougher around his edges, more inked, more colorful. There's this softness in his smile, though. Moves more easily, more relaxed, and Niall figures it must be the baby.

He waves off to Bagsy and the producers, and makes his way to the lounge, where he sees her.

“Perrie,” he says, surprised to see her sat in one of the couches, cup of tea in her hands. Her dress falls down to her feet, stretching over her belly, and he had heard, of course. Having Grimmy as a friend, he was bound to have found out early on, but. Seeing it really is something else.

“Niall,” she smiles at him, making to stand up, but he shakes his head, moving down quickly instead to accept the kiss on his cheek. “Please, sit.”

“Oh, no, I can see you’re - well-”

“No, please, I insist,” she says, still smiling, and he gulps a bit. Never really been in a room, or anywhere, really, alone with her, so he takes a seat gingerly on the couch next to her.

Her hair is darker, like honey amber, and her face is a little fuller. Shows that she’s lived a fuller life, he supposes.

“I know this might come as forward,” she begins, and Niall looks at her, sees her leaning forward slightly so she can speak to him properly. “But I do doubt I’ll get to do this again, so. I don’t think I ever really apologized to you, properly. What we did, it must have caused you a lot of pain and anger. I’m sorry.”

“Oh,” he breathes, and. He wasn’t really expecting this, this early in the morning. “Um. Thank you, for saying that. But I'm okay now. I forgave you a long time ago. Wouldn’t be where I am today if that hadn't happened, so. It's okay.”

“An apology is still worth something, though,” she tells him, small smile on her face. “I really am sorry.”

“It's alright,” he clears his throat. Gives her a smile he knows is awkward, but he's trying. “Um, you look very well. You'll have a beautiful baby.”

“Oh, thank you,” she says, and her smiles gone wide, but also softer. “We're very happy. Ammara’s been asking for a sibling, so. Just a bit over five months in, we’re very excited.”

“That's good,” he says.

“Pez, we’re - oh,” Zayn walks in, stops when he sees them. “I. Niall, hello.”

“Zayn,” he says, and he knows he’d come here to face this hurdle, but this quite a bit to handle, really, at this hour of the day.

“It’s, um. It’s good to see you,” he tells him, and it doesn’t sound like a lie. “Been a long time.”

“Yes, it has been,” he says, rather lamely, and he doesn’t know what to do.

Perrie is more graceful, though. Knows how to read the room, and tells him, “By the way, we want to offer our congratulations. You seem very happy with your boy, we’re very happy for you.”

“Ah, yeah,” Zayn says, nodding. “Was really happy for you, when I heard. You sounded real happy when he called in, that day.”

“You were listening?” he blinks, surprised.

“We do, almost every morning,” she answers for them. “Well, mostly me, to be honest, he’s never awake.”

“But when I can, I do,” he clarifies, and gives Niall a small smile. “Anyway. You probably already know, but I met Harry not too long ago. He was very nice to me, even if I’d understand it if he wasn’t. I know he makes you very happy, so. That makes me happy, for you.”

“Um, thank you,” he says, and he looks at him. His air is much lighter now, more open and relaxed, and his eyes deeper, more understanding. Niall doesn’t know what it is, but he’s never really been able to hide the truth from Zayn. Just been like that, with them. Zayn lies a lot, he doesn’t lie at all, and somehow, they had a few good years, then a few really bad ones. Doesn’t seem like he’s lying now, though.

“We’re, um. We’re going through something, at the moment,” he admits. “Just a little something.”

“Yeah?” he says patiently.

“Yeah, just. I don’t know, we’ll be okay, I believe that fully, but it’s hard,” he tells him, doesn’t really know why he’s just confessing everything to his ex, but. “It’s just. I’m all in, you know? And he is too, but not right now. Too much happening going on right now, so he’s not sure about the timing.”

Zayn raises his eyebrows, and frowns as he takes a moment to process. “Well, will you be alright? I’m hoping for the best.”

“Well, so am I,” he says. “I just. I know where he’s coming from. I just wished he talked to me before it blew up in our faces. I’d be willing to wait, I just. I just wanted him to tell me the truth."

Zayn takes another moment to think, and he says eventually, “Okay, coming from me, this might mean nothing to you, but I know the feeling he’s having. You know, I was just getting my foot through the door when we were together, and it was hard, trying to make everything make sense.”

Niall glances at him, and he’s wondered about this part of their lives. He’d tried to understand Zayn, tried to be patient and forgiving then. They had great times, but many more bad.

“I mean, yeah, I fucked up when I cheated and shit,” he continues, and an embarrassed, maybe ashamed flush spreads on his skin. “I’m not exactly the best example for this. But, what I’m trying to say is, I hope you see how hard this is on Harry, too. Just, that shitty feeling of not knowing what to do and being so overwhelmed that you just freeze and distract yourself with everything? It’s not great.”

He takes in the words, and he knows all of this already, but maybe. Maybe he hadn’t really thought about it as much as he should have. Maybe not in the way that Zayn is telling him now.

“One thing, though, where the two of us are different,” he says, “When I talked to him, I saw it, like, real clear, in his eyes, and like. He doesn’t take you for granted, and he doesn’t underestimate you. So, if anything, you should know that. He’s just scared, but you’ll always be a priority to him. Just give him time.”

Niall stares at him, really looks, and. He’d always known Zayn was smart, really emotionally in tune with himself, and he vaguely wishes he’d been like this more when they were still together. But they both had to grow up a bit, and the man in front of him now, he’s doing well, doing right by his wife and his family, and Niall couldn’t be prouder of him. He’s beyond happy.

“Thank you, Z,” he stands to hug him for a brief moment, and Zayn must feel comfortable enough because he’s barely surprised by the gesture, even leaves a sweet, short kiss on his cheek. When they separate, Perrie’s smiling warmly, sincerely at them, and.

Feels like everything’s as it should be, or at least about to be.

.

“Okay, Heroes and Sunshine Babies,” he’s saying into his mic, “You know the drill! Twitter, hashtag _‘#HeartbreakHero’_ or _‘#SunshineHotline’,_ should you be so inclined, or call us up at 03700 100 100. We’ll be ready and waiting to take your calls.”

“Yes, yes, but first,” Nick’s interrupting him loudly, and he’s got this secret smile on his face, mischievous and much too happy, “We’ve already got a caller on the line, he’s got something to announce!”

“What, Grim, we talked about this-”

“Ah, no, you’ll like this, Nialler, he grins, “Okay! Caller, you’re on the air.”

_“Hi Nick. Hello, love.”_

Niall pauses, and his heart races.

“Magpie!” Nick exclaims, beaming at the voice, and he looks expectantly at Niall, waiting.

“H-Hi, Baby Groot,” he says softly, and he can hear Harry hum to it, as if it were a tune he’d like to keep listening to. Nick coos, hits something on the soundboard but Niall’s not really paying any attention to it.

_“Did you get my gift?”_ Harry asks, and Niall blinks.

“What-”

Before he can ask, Nick reaches beneath the table, heaves out a box, and slides it across to him, grinning all the while. Niall stares at it for a moment, his chest tight with memories and affection, then takes off the lid.

On top of the pile within, a note. _‘#24, Little things matter. Haven’t forgotten, but maybe I need to remember more. I love you.’_ Inside, breakfast sandwiches and wraps, his favorite Americano. A flower crown of white and pale green roses, the mere sight of it making his eyes sting a little with the surge of love, and several leather bound journals. He touches the topmost one carefully, and he knows these. Sees Harry with one of them often, and another note hidden under the cover. _‘You never ask what’s in these. Lyrics and thoughts I have, pages with ink, all for you. Only you.’_

He swallows, blinks rapidly to stop himself from crying, and he says into the microphone, “Thank you, Harry.”

_“I was hoping, maybe later,”_ he says shyly, and the nervousness is clear in his voice, _“Would you like to have dinner with me? I’m cooking, and. I miss having dates with you.”_

Niall blushes, and his eyes sting and moisten that much more, points himself away from the microphone so he can fan his eyes without the mics picking up the noise as much.

“Y-Yeah, alright,” he says softly after, biting his lips as he breathes hard through his nose. “Okay. That sounds lovely.”

He feels like he knows Harry’s smiling quietly on the other side, then, _“Okay. I can't wait.”_

Niall can see Nick, hiding his glee behind his hands, swiveling from side to side in his chair, and everyone on the other side of the glass isn’t doing much better.

“Magpie!” Nick says loudly into his mic, still beaming, “You have to introduce your new tune.”

_“Oh, right,”_ he says, and Niall starts, remembering where they are and that everyone with a radio can hear this, should they choose to. He blushes again, phone going crazy wi notifications, and he's pretty sure they're trending. Harry goes on, _“This is the third song, second official single off of the record. This is ‘Once in a Lifetime.’”_

“And you’re still listening to BBC Radio 1,” Nick finishes off for him, and he plays the song, totally blindsiding Niall.

He kind of stops breathing, once the song starts playing. Beautiful doesn’t quite cover it, does it a great injustice. It’s simple, mostly easy, flowing chords of the guitar and the layering of Harry’s voice in the chorus has him closing his eyes, can’t quite contain the emotion in his chest. It sounds like truth, and much more than he’s asked for.

He bows his head down and wipes away the tears frantically before Nick can take the piss, but when he looks up, Nick’s got the softest look on his face as he listens to the song wind down quietly. He glances at Niall, and he knows that he’s going to let this one slide.

He receives a message from Harry, _‘I hope you like it. It’s for you.’_ Then another one coming in right after, _‘Meet me at the place you showed me, with the garden, at half seven. I love you.’_

He sends one message back.

‘Okay. I’ll see you tonight. I love you.’

.

When Niall gets to the ruins, the place is decked out in fairy lights and flowers everywhere. The table for two is set up, and it’s been some time, since he’d been here.

“Niall,” Harry's greeting him, walking out from the side and he looks so handsome. He'd trimmed his hair a bit, and wearing that white hand shirt Niall won't really admit he really loves. The leather skinny jeans, though; he'd made it known that he loves those.

He misses him. And to see him smiling softly in front of him is making him choke up a little.

“Hi,” he says, smiling in turn. He comes forward, and Harry meets him halfway, pulling his face in for a sweet, chaste kiss. Makes his heart beat into overdrive.

“Food should be done heating up in a bit,” Harry says quietly, walks them over to the table and drawing out Niall's chair for him, “But, I figured, we could have a little game for a bit.”

It's then that Niall looks down as he sits, and there's a Post-it pad and a few markers on the table, and Niall didn't think his heart could race that much faster, but.

“Yeah, that'd be. Um, that'd be nice,” he says, a little lamely, but Harry doesn't look as if he really minds.

He just smiles again as he settles down in the seat across, and takes a Sharpie, drags the pad towards him, “May I?”

Niall nods, not really knowing what else to do. Harry writes for a bit, and he's leaning forward, and gently sticking the paper onto his forehead.

“Okay,” Niall says, blinking, the Post-it flopping over the lense of his glasses. Harry smiles at him again, and he asks, “Man, girl, or something else?”

“Man,” he answers.

“He famous?”

“Yes.”

“Hmm. Would I know him? Like, personally?”

“Yeah, you do.”

“Oh. Then, Payno.”

“No.”

“Um. Nick?”

“No.”

This goes on for too long, and he tries not to get frustrated. He's usually good at this, especially when he's against Harry, because he's predictable as fuck. He guesses, names every famous bloke he knows, and Harry just keeps saying no or shaking his head.

“Starting to think you've written a person who isn't real,” he mutters after a while, and Harry laughs.

“Well, you didn't ask very many questions,” he says. “Why don't you ask me more?”

He looks at him, and sighs. Asks, “Alright. Is he British?”

“No.”

Niall blinks, and groans, making Harry laugh again. “Most of the non-English folk I know are athletes, I highly doubt you'd even be familiar.”

“Ask me more questions, then,” he says simply.

“Alright, fine,” he huffs, making Harry smile quietly. “Do you know him personally?”

“Yes.”

“Um. He smart?”

“Yes, smartest person I know.”

“Handsome?”

“He's got the best face.”

Niall blinks. Tries, “Do you, um. Do you like him?”

“Love him,” Harry answers, and his eyes go unbearably soft, the smile on his face tender.

Niall's eyes water, says, “It's me, innit?”

Harry doesn't even answer verbally, tears up and nods a little.

Niall moves to remove the paper from his head, and he's sure a small sob escapes his mouth when he sees what's crammed on it. _‘Love of my life/husband-to-be/best person ever/you, only ever been you.’_

Harry gets up from his chair, comes forward and pulls him into an embrace. “I'm sorry,” he whispers, over and over. “I was stupid, I do want to be with you. I want to be married, I want to be your husband.”

Niall wants to speak, but he finds himself lost for words. Just holds Harry back, tucks his face into his neck. Breathes him in, and his chest hurts with how much it wants to burst, and he feels like he's breathing for the first time in weeks.

Harry gets on his knee in front of him, pulls out from his pocket, with difficulty, a ring, a plain platinum band, and Niall just tears up even more.

“Marry me?” Harry asks him, voice all wobbly, and he can't even tease him, say that they're already engaged, or.

Whatever, it doesn't matter, and he says in an exhale, “Yes.”

Harry smiles through the tears, and slides the ring onto his fourth finger, and he pauses, just looking at it. “Now we both have one.”

Niall smiles, and he chuckles, feeling so silly after all this drama and arguing between them. Feels relief wash over him.

“I'm sorry, you know,” he tells him, holds Harry's face in his hands. He wipes away the tears with his thumbs, and Harry leans into his touch. “I'm sorry, maybe I should have paid more attention to what you were feeling. I know you have a hard time talking to me about this kind of stuff sometimes, and I say you shouldn't, but. It's not really an easy thing to do, in reality.”

“Wasn't your fault,” Harry tells him, and Niall leans down to kiss him softly.

“Still. I say I want the truth, and when it's given to me, I have a hard time accepting it, sometimes,” he says.

“Not your fault,” Harry says again, tilts his head up to rest his forehead against his. “Just. It was just the planning, you know? Big wedding, and it's not bad, but it got to me, all the organizing and detailing, and I don't know. I just wanted to be married. That's all that mattered to me.”

Niall hums, and he understands. “I'm sorry. Maybe I got carried away with everything. I was just excited.”

“I don't blame you, Ni,” he tells him. “I was excited too. I still am. But, you know, I'd think maybe sometime ago, I wanted a big ceremony and everything, but now, I know. All I really need is you to be there.”

“Baby Groot,” he says, his voice shuddering.

Harry kisses him again, “I'd be fine, just send out a text or something to everyone, tell them to come in their best clothes and just. Meet up somewhere, you know? Then Nick can officiate.”

“No, no Nick,” he mutters, and Harry just smiles. “That idiot will just take the piss every time he’ll get a chance.”

“I think it’d be fun,” he murmurs, and he tilts his head up, asking wordlessly for another kiss. Niall gives it to him easily, and he holds his face close, reveling in the warmth he brings, the touch of Harry’s palms on his thighs.

Right where they need to be.

.

They actually do it.

They lure in their considerably diminished guest list with texts, telling them to go to the garden for a small engagement party, since they never actually had one. Just the immediate families, Louis and El, Liam and Sophia managed to make it back before they have to jet off to North America for the next leg of his tour, a few co-workers, Nick, Bagsy, John and Julian. Didn’t say anything much else other than _‘wear your nicest clothes!’_

Niall gets catering from his chef mates, Harry is given a gift from the baker ladies he used to work with in the form of a beautiful, elegant wedding cake.

Their mothers are frantic and almost livid and hysterical with tears when they reveal that they were actually getting married that day, bombarding them with questions and demands, but the men manage to calm them down some. Bobby and Robin have difficulty disguising their laughter, but Des doesn’t care much to hide, just laughs openly. Gemma shrugs, Greg and Denise are shocked, but don’t have much time to be when Theo starts towards the cake with lit up eyes. Louis is yelling about being best man, Liam is blinking. El and Soph wonder about their gowns, are more than pleased when Harry tells them they’re in one of the rooms in the house waiting to be worn. Nick has this glint in his eye, which is instantly put out when Niall tells him firmly they’d gotten an actual officiant, and Bagsy, John and Julian partake in the open bar, already tired.

Nothing less than what they were hoping for.

Harry wears a Gucci suit, plainer than his usual, red piping along the black blazer and a red carnation for a bowtie. Niall goes for a three piece Tom Ford. The girls look beautiful in their dresses, Louis is fidgeting in his suit and Liam is wondering if he should have gone for the Armani rather than the Versace, standing in their places as best men.

It’s small, rather cozy in the garden, but they’re not many, anyway. Simple, and they get right into it.

“I’m a work in progress,” Harry starts off his vows. His hand grips Niall’s tightly, and his eyes shine. “I’m a former Magpie who’s finally found the shiniest, most beautiful, best thing in the world. Sunshine, in human form. This Magpie, Baby Groot. _I_ love you, and, if I may be allowed, I’d be humbled and honored to be with you the rest of this lifetime, and meet you again in the next. Thank you for calling me on my shit, all those years ago. Thank you for putting up with me and teaching me and believing in me. Thank you, for opening your door.”

He slides on the wedding band on Niall’s finger, and they both choke, smiling and crying and they’re not the only ones.

“I’m a work in progress, too,” Niall begins, and he blinks rapidly behind his glasses, “I had trust issues I’d tried to bury, and it didn’t work. I was scared, but more than my fears, I love you. I love you immensely, I love that you made me change my mind. Thank you, for making me think differently. That love wasn’t so scary, that maybe. I was deserving of a great love, after all. Thank you for making me reconsider. Thank you for making me feel like a real hero.”

He slides on Harry’s ring, and they kiss, and everyone is clapping and crying.

They’re right where they need to be.

.

_(another epilogue, kinda)_

“Good morning, all you lovely folk,” Niall’s saying into his microphone, and the sun’s not as bright yet, the staff’s not as awake. Feels strange, to be in this booth alone, but Nick’s sending him messages nonstop, the last of which is popping up on his phone’s screen, _‘U GOT DIS U IRISH MOTHERFUCKER.’_ “This is Nialler, coming at you live from the BBC Radio 1 Broadcasting House in London, and this is The Breakfast Show!”

He hits the _‘applause’_ button, and smiles as it dies down. “There are many of you who don’t know me, so please let me introduce myself. I'm Niall Horan, and I'm Irish. I used to be your resident Heartbreak Hero, a segment I hosted with Grimmy for more than five years during the last hour of this same show. And now, I'm your Breakfast Show presenter. Your morning companion, and I very much look forward to our time together.”

He glances towards the producers on the other side of the glass, and Bagsy’s beaming, giving him a brief thumbs up, and he grins back.

“Alright, so-”

He doesn’t have a chance to continue, as someone’s barging into the booth unceremoniously. He looks up, sighs when he sees, of course, it’s Harry who comes in, great big grin on his face and a box in his hands.

“Good morning, this is Niall’s husband Harry speaking into the mic,” he leans over and says into the microphone, smiling . He sets the box down and pulls Niall’s face to his, kissing him soundly, makes extra noises just so the mics pick it up.

“Ah, I’m working Baby Groot,” he mumbles, but he kisses back anyway, “First day on the job.”

“Doing so well,” he says, pulling back and beaming. “Here-”

He pushes the box into his hands, and he pushes Niall to open it. He does so reluctantly, and inside-

“Ay, not again,” he mutters when he sees a cake inside, a flower crown of pale blue hydrangeas and lilac peonies. At least there’s frosting, this time. “Vegan?”

“No, real butter and eggs, just for you,” he says, and he climbs on to his lap, and kisses him again. “Happy first day on the new job.”

“Ah, hmm,” he hums against his mouth, can’t really help but kiss back. “Happy first anniversary.”

Harry smiles against his lips, and kisses him harder, licking across the seam and into his mouth, sucking on his tongue.

Bagsy and some of the other producers are tapping, knocking on the glass, pointing at the _‘ON AIR’_ sign blinking in red, but Niall just pulls his husband in closer, snogs him for at least another minute, and they start yelling, though it’s not all that heard on their side of the booth.

“Ayyy,” he pulls away from Harry, just long enough to look round at them and raising and waving his fourth finger up at them, showing off his wedding ring. He speaks into the mic, “Sorry, this is unprofessional, but me and my boy’s been married for a year, and I love him, he’s a twat. Have a twenty minute non-stop song run, starting off with something from Passion Pit. You’re still listening to The Breakfast Show on BBC Radio 1.”

He shuts off his mic as soon as he sets the queue of songs up to play, and he turns back to Harry, who’s beaming down at him and getting a comfortable position on his lap, and they’re kissing again.

He hopes that every year will be like this, and he has a feeling they will be. Amazing, then.

**Author's Note:**

> [Say hi!](http://www.castlestylan.tumblr.com)
> 
>  
> 
> Some of my old art that I've incorporated into some scenes, found [here](http://castlestylan.tumblr.com/post/119912253000/narrylime-for-you-and-for-your-anon), and [here](http://castlestylan.tumblr.com/post/120709852150/nsfw-i-dont-know-there-arent-actually-any).


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